Prelude To War: Musings & Conversations
by Mary the Filker
Summary: Sequel to Prelude To War: Musings. Harry gets more help than he expected to deal with both his pain and his destiny. AU Sixth Year as of HBP.
1. Conversations: Severus and Remus

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and her publishers, not to me.

Spoilers: All five HP novels.

PRELUDE--MUSINGS & CONVERSATIONS (Part Two)

V: Severus and Remus (Late afternoon to evening, Friday, 5 July 1996)

Snape entered 12 Grimmauld Place quietly, avoiding waking up the annoying portrait (and thinking maybe it was time to team up Bill Weasley, the curse-breaker, and Filius Flitwick, the Charms Master, to find a final solution to that harridan, before someone snapped and leveled the wall and her with it), and went in search of someone more expert on Potter than he was.

He found Remus Lupin in the kitchen. The werewolf half-rose in surprise, but decided his usual politeness was not unwarranted.

"Severus, I wasn't expecting you. I was just about to make tea; would you like some?"

Snape rubbed his head a little; he hadn't realized he was starting a headache. "I wasn't going to, but yes, I will—and please put something stronger in it. I need to speak with someone about something I find _very_ odd, and unfortunately _you_ are the best choice."

Lupin's eyebrows rose. That Snape would voluntarily share a cup of tea with him, and actually _ask_ him to spike it, meant that the Potions Master was deeply disturbed about something. "Then let me get the decent stuff, and that tea that I've seen you like. If this is going to be a serious discussion, we're likely to need it." He put the kettle on, lit the fire with his wand, and got out the teapot and the brandy. As the water boiled, he studied the other man's lowered face and discreetly inhaled his scent. He picked up the usual scents around Snape: Potions, including (he was pleased to note) the ingredients for Wolfsbane; the basic scent of the man; and tension (did the man never relax?). Snape was obviously deeply troubled; for him to voluntarily come to Lupin at all—and half-civilly at that—was not at all usual.

Lupin busied himself with getting the tea things ready; when both men had steaming cups in front of them he opened the bottle. "Shall I pour, or would you rather?" he asked.

In answer, Snape took the bottle and poured himself a decent tot; handing the bottle back to Lupin, he stirred the tea and took a sip. "Sufficient," he judged aloud. Lupin did likewise, and both men sat in silence for a minute, each with his own thoughts.

Lupin broke the silence. "You said you needed something from me?" he prompted.

Snape decided getting directly to the point would be best. "Yes. I have had a very disturbing letter that purports to be from Harry Potter. I know that your Werewolf senses can verify if he wrote it or at least handled it. The handwriting, at least, matches. Afterwards, I think perhaps you ought to read it, and tell me if this is actually Potter, or an imposter; if it is Potter, whether he is in his right mind. If he is, or not, will determine the proper course of action."

This wasn't exactly what Lupin had expected. "Why would an imposter send you anything? But yes, I'll look it over." Snape handed over the letter, and watched as Lupin took it in his hands and sniffed it gently.

"Oh, it's Harry, all right; this is one of the ones Tonks brought over this morning from Arabella's. I scent him, her, Albus a little, and you, but mostly Harry." Brown eyes met black as Lupin studied the other man. "Are you _sure_ you want me to read it, now I've verified it for you? I know how much you value your privacy."

"Yes, I must have you read it now, whether I want to or not; I've realized that I truly don't know Potter well enough to tell if he's in his right mind or not. For him to voluntarily send _me_ a letter over summer is odd enough; but the contents are disturbing, and I want your opinion as to his sincerity and veracity." Snape dropped his eyes and studied his teacup. He did hate to come to Lupin of all people, and for something such as this, but the wolf was the only adult other than Albus who knew the boy well enough to give him a useful answer. Even Minerva, who was Potter's Head of House, didn't know him as well as Lupin did. The only other option was the older Weasleys, and some of what was discussed in the letter they didn't know about and he hoped never would; Lupin did. He couldn't very well go to the other teens with this, and he wanted a response at least partly worked out before he went to Albus with it. And, much as he hated to admit it, Lupin was the only half-decent one of the four Marauders who had plagued his school life; the werewolf also seemed to have grown up, as Black never really had, and treated him decently enough despite their shared history. And, oddly enough, that _was_ one of the points Potter had touched on.

For Lupin, the situation reminded him of a variant of the Muggle saying: "Hell has frozen over and the Devil is ice-skating". Yet, the other man was obviously sincere for once, so he owed it to him—and to the Order, and to Harry--to give him an honest answer if he could. He unrolled the scroll and began to read it.

After reading it through twice, Lupin thought for a few minutes. "Severus, I think I can see what is bothering you, and for what it's worth, it's bothering me, too. For Harry to write something like this to you means he is forcing down a _huge_ amount of pride, grief and hurt and trying to make amends with you, so that you would be more amenable to helping him. That, at least, is genuine; Harry just doesn't have the mind-set to fake anything like this. Something must have happened after the Ministry incident to change his attitude toward you; he already knew what you are, so that isn't entirely it. Albus must have told him something disturbing." Lupin reread another paragraph. "And being stuck with those miserable excuses for Muggles means that he can't do anything _but_ think about things. Harry has a serious tendency to assume the guilt for everything that goes wrong; and _that_ can be laid at the doorstep of the Muggles, too; they never treated him as anything remotely human, in hopes that his magic would never manifest, and sometimes he feels as if he needs to apologize for existing."

Snape was more than surprised; while that explained a few things, some of his most long-held assumptions were being challenged. "Are they truly that bad? Potter never seems to complain about them."

Lupin grimaced. "Harry has a bad habit, obviously ingrained by them, of not complaining about _anything _to do with them—or much else. He's learned not to trust adults, and he's too ashamed to tell his friends much. And yes, they are that bad; their treatment of Harry is just short enough of abuse not to set off warnings."

This was getting stranger to Snape. "Did Albus know how bad they were? Why in Merlin's name did he put the boy there?"

"Second question first: two reasons. One is that what Lily did created a Blood Magic spell that protects him from Riddle so long as he has a home where her blood resides—in this case, her sister Petunia. Second, he wanted the boy raised away from the Wizarding World to protect him, not only from the remaining Death Eaters, but also from all the celebrity you accuse him of. Harry didn't even know what a Wizard _was_ until Hagrid brought him his Hogwarts letter, after Vernon Dursley kept throwing out all the ones that arrived by mail and owl post." Lupin smiled slightly at the memory of Hagrid's retelling of that story. "You really should ask Hagrid about that; it's quite a story." He looked up at the other man. "I think it also might explain part of why you and Harry got off on the wrong foot to start with. He told me that the Sorting Hat told him he 'could be great in Slytherin', but he kept saying 'not Slytherin', so he ended up in Gryffindor."

"No! The Boy-Who-Lived in _my _House? With total ignorance of the Wizarding world combined with his celebrity, being the one to defeat the Dark Lord in a House full of Death Eaters' relatives, and a Muggleborn mother on top of it all? He'd have been eaten alive!" Snape shuddered at the very thought.

"Or, he might have been a good influence on Malfoy, and drawn in some of your moderates, like the Zabini boy," Lupin returned gently; he didn't want to spoil the longest civil conversation he'd ever had with his old enemy. "Besides, he'd have had you as his House Head, and you would have been bound to protect him, despite him being James' son." He shook his head. "How Harry ended up a decent human being after that upbringing—well, he did have fifteen months with Lily and James, for whatever that may have been worth—is beyond me. Now Hagrid, bless him, is as good-hearted a soul as I know, but he's also a quite thoroughgoing Gryffindor, much like Ron Weasley, and had already told Harry that Slytherin House was where evil wizards came from. Considering Hagrid's own history with Tom Riddle, whose lies got him expelled, I'm not surprised. Then, Harry met Draco Malfoy in Diagon Alley, and didn't take to his superior attitude at all; on the train, Draco insulted Ron and Harry saw a Wizarding version of his bullying oaf of a cousin, which pretty much alienated him from anything Slytherin. And as to why Harry's relatives didn't get any warning, I suspect it's because he's Wizard-born; they forgot he was being Muggle-raised, so they didn't get what the Muggleborns' families usually get. Or, if they did, they ignored it. Petunia would know what to expect, after growing up with Lily; but Vernon would not, and they both despise the Wizarding world and everything to do with it." Lupin took a deep breath. "As to your first question, I don't know for sure, but I don't think Albus ever knew all the details, just that the boy was alive and healthy. I suspect, knowing Albus, it was a hard choice between keeping him safe and keeping him happy." He looked unhappy at the memories that were coming up. "Severus, you of all people know how it was then. Sirius was in Azkaban, Peter we thought was dead, and I'm a werewolf and can't get sole custody of a child. Now, we weren't the only friends the Potters had, after all. Dozens of families would have lined up to have the opportunity to raise the Boy-Who-Lived. But there were still Death Eaters on the loose; look at what happened to the Longbottoms not long afterwards. Most of the Order members were either unable to raise small children, like the Hogwarts Professors, or had their own problems like the Weasleys' poverty or my lycanthropy; the ones who could might not have been able to protect him. If the Ministry had taken a hand, he might have ended up with the Malfoys or someone like that—and with his power and that upbringing, we may have been getting a second Dark Lord, on top of the one some of us knew wasn't totally gone to begin with. Or worse, a fusion, worse than Quirrell was!"

Snape's headache was getting worse. This wasn't at all what he had expected. "Then why did they keep him at all? And just how bad _are_ they, really?"

"Because they knew that we knew he was there, and had no way of knowing when we would check on him. They are terrified of scandal, and there _would_ have been one, even on the Muggle side, if anything _had_ happened and Albus found out. Oh, they didn't really _do_ anything to him, I think, but they were never kind; he was constantly belittled and called a freak, especially after he got his letter. The other thing they did was underfeed him and fail to provide for even his basic needs; have you ever seen him before term in Muggle clothes? They're all worn-out hand-me-downs from his cousin, who is about half again bigger than Gregory Goyle. Neglect can border on abuse. As it is, Arabella was watching him all these years, her and her cats. She couldn't do much, or they would have forbidden her access; but they accepted her as a babysitter when they wanted to go out without him. He never even knew she was a Squib until she had to testify at his hearing. And as to how bad they are personally..." Lupin frowned, deep in thought. "Remember...oh, Miranda Bulstrode, year ahead of us, your House? I think you have a niece of hers in your House now. Tall, thin, bossy, and screechy?"

Snape winced at the memory. "I do, and I sincerely wish you hadn't reminded me; I pity anyone who married her. I've _never_ heard a voice, then or now, that could penetrate through the Serpent's Den like hers did, and her temper got us more House points deducted than her genuine talent at Transfiguration got back." He sipped his tea, frowned at it, and refreshed both the tea and the brandy in it. "Miranda must have gotten her build from her mother's side of the family; the Bulstrodes tend to be big and blocky, as Millicent is." He rummaged his own memories and shuddered. "I don't recall what became of her, though; she didn't marry anyone I personally knew. But if I never hear from her again it'll be too soon."

Lupin nodded. "I remember Millicent in my Defense classes when I taught; she was already growing well at thirteen. Well, take about six inches off Miranda in height and make her blonde, and you have Petunia. I swear she's as opposite to Lily as one could imagine; they are _nothing_ alike. As to Vernon..." He thought some more. "Take Martin Goyle; add something of a brain, a temper like Miranda's, the rigid anti-Muggle prejudices of Lucius Malfoy—or better yet, Madame Black—in reverse, with _none_ of Malfoy's good manners; add a walrus mustache, and you have Vernon Dursley. Dudley is their son; about a month older than Harry and twice the size; spoiled far worse than Draco Malfoy—Draco at least has had some discipline, while Dudley appears to have had none—a blond junior version of Vernon, and with all the family's hateful attitudes toward 'freaks'—meaning wizards. _That_ is what Harry grew up among." He fell into silence.

Snape tried to piece together the images Lupin had offered, and almost cringed; they weren't pretty. He'd seen enough similar situations in the children of his own House. Lupin, for his part, was surprised at the other man's lack of snarkiness and sneers. The two men sat quietly for a few minutes, each one lost in his own thoughts.

Lupin broke the silence again. "Severus, I'm sorry for being a poor host; can I get you something to eat? Molly left quite a few sandwiches under a Preserving Charm for all of us. If you and I keep this up, we are _both_ going to need Sober-Up Potions and maybe a Hangover Potion; and from what I can sense you could use a headache remedy, too. Now, I don't know about you, but I didn't eat much breakfast, and it's well past lunch time; we still haven't gotten into the meat of what we need to discuss, which is the letter itself."

Snape pulled out of his thoughts at the quiet words, and realized it was nearly dinnertime. He had forgotten to eat lunch at the school before he left. "Yes, please, anything within reason will do. I think we should both hold off on any more brandy, too; this—discussion—needs to stay sober." Another thought struck him. "Where _is_ Molly, anyway? And is anyone else coming for dinner? I think this should be kept private, and if the kitchen is going to be full of people I really don't care to talk here."

"I agree. If you'll get the tea tray, I'll get a sandwich tray; we can go into one of the upstairs sitting rooms that doesn't have a portrait in it. Even Headmaster Black gets on my nerves after a while, and he's not the worst by any means." Lupin tucked the letter into a robe pocket, and went into the Preserving Cabinet for some roast beef sandwiches and some small cakes. "I think Molly's at the Burrow for a few days."

Some minutes later, the two men were seated in a small sitting room on the second floor, with the food and drink on a small table. "Hmm...this is _much_ more comfortable than the kitchen," Snape commented after devouring half his first sandwich.

"No argument here. Molly did a good job of the cleanup, too; this room is actually usable." Both men were silent as they ate. Afterwards, when there were no more sandwiches, Lupin broke the silence as he took out the letter and scanned it again.

"All right, let's take this point by point. Yes, Harry _did_ Firecall us about the incident with your Pensieve; I agree that he should never have looked into it, but he did. What he saw greatly upset him, and I think that Siri telling him that we were only fifteen wasn't enough of a reason, in Harry's eyes, for what he and James did to you." He met Snape's eyes directly. "And, for what it's worth now, I _am_ sorry that I didn't break it up myself, as was my duty as a Prefect. Lily behaved better than I did. They were wrong, and you didn't deserve that. For my part, and I shouldn't have waited this long to do so, _I_ apologize." He waited for the other man's reaction.

Snape silently held out his hand for the letter, and reread the first few paragraphs. "It seems as if he urgently wants to clear up, or at least put off, all our past history, so that we can get on with the task at hand; you did note that he wishes you and me to work together? He even recognizes that he can't correct the past, only deal with it. That takes a level of maturity I didn't know he had. What has gotten into him?" Deciding, he set down the letter and held his hand out to Lupin. "Truce?"

"Agree. And if we're going to work together, call me Remus." Lupin took the offered hand for the proper length of time, and then released it. He picked up the letter again and reread another paragraph. "It would seem to me that he's driven by something—something urgent; strong enough for him to swallow an awful lot that I think he hasn't had time to truly recover from, such as losing Sirius, and all his past history with you. Is that what you see?"

"Yes. I don't know everything that happened at the Ministry, and I don't know what Albus told him afterwards; but I expected him to still be grieving and blaming either himself or me. That is what I could not fathom. All last year he was reacting to the events at the graveyard; he was self-isolated, and trying to push people away, to the point of seriously alienating his friends, and that lasted a good part of the year, until they started their Defense club. Then there was the entire mess with Umbridge; he simply could _not_ keep his temper around her when she told what to him were blatant lies that the Ministry wanted the students to eat; that cost him many detentions and House points. At the end of the year, after the Ministry, he was angry and grieving. Now, he seems to have borne the loss and everything else, including all the people he cared about who were hurt, in far less time than I expected, and is desperately asking _me_ for help—me, whom he usually sincerely and somewhat justifiably detests, and probably blames in part for Black's death." Another thought hit Snape, and he frowned. "And I find it truly odd that he is asking about the Dark Lord's revival ritual, for three reasons: I would have thought he would never wish to remember it again, as it has inhabited his nightmares ever since that day; he's offering a Pensieve memory, when he _knows_ how personal such things are, to _me_ of all people; then today, the Headmaster asked me the same thing—to look up books on the matter in the Black library--when I was leaving to come here. I think Potter wrote him, too, asking the same thing. Why?"

Lupin shook his head. "I know he will have something to do with Riddle's defeat, but undoing a Dark Ritual is not something I see him trying to do. But there is some urgency here, as if he's thinking we don't have much time." He raised his head and looked at Snape again. "Is there anything you know that I don't, that would account for such urgency?"

Snape considered, then shook his head. "I cannot, for the life of me, see how the Dark Lord can do _anything_ major soon, with most of his Inner Circle in Azkaban and his return now so in the open no one can deny it. Either he must recruit, trust the lesser ranks, or free the imprisoned ones, before he even thinks of doing anything major. All he has left of the Inner Circle right now are Pettigrew and Bellatrix Lestrange—and me; hardly the team _I_ would choose for a major campaign, even with the Dementors gone from Azkaban." He finished off the last bite of the cake he had been nibbling on, then spoke again. "My House is really going to be upset, with so many students, most of them in the upper forms, with their fathers or relatives in Azkaban." He snorted. "And Fudge is taking his own good time about the trials, too; it isn't _just _the Dark Lord who wants Malfoy out and free."

"Uh-huh. Remember it was the Ministry, not the Dark Lord, who sent Umbridge to Hogwarts. If she weren't in St. Mungo's, I'd be sorely tempted to risk being put down and take her with me; not only did she hurt Harry, she's the one who wrote all those werewolf directives that ensure I can't get a job. If it weren't for Siri slipping gold into my vault before he died—"a brief pause, then he continued—"and giving me a home here, and Albus giving me Order work, I would be starving."

Snape swallowed any expression of pity; the werewolf was as proud as he himself was, and would not appreciate it any more than he would have. He was surprised that Lupin had even mentioned it to him. This wasn't the time for his usual snarky comments, either; the other man had been making an extreme effort to suppress his own considerable grief and to be courteous, honest and fair; the least he could do was to match it. Aloud, he said, "Don't. She isn't worth it. For that matter, I was sorely tempted to hex her myself several times; and still would, if and when it was appropriate; even leaving aside what she did to Potter and some of the other students, I still think that what she had done to Minerva was totally inexcusable. But creatures such as Umbridge do not arise in a vacuum. I've known for a long time that Albus and the Dark Lord are not the only power brokers who are trying to manage the Wizarding world. There are differences with them, though: Riddle is at least honest when he declares that he wants to rule, and his wishes are made abundantly clear, even if he's being a hypocrite about Pureblood supremacy, being a halfblood himself. You are either with him or against him. Malfoy allied with him, halfblood or no, because Riddle _is_ truly a powerful enough Wizard to oppose Dumbledore, and can help Malfoy get what _he_ wants: the rule for himself and his Pureblood aristocrat friends. Albus, for all his machinations, at least sincerely gives a damn about the ordinary Witches and Wizards who _aren't_ rich or powerful, does not discriminate for or against any intelligent species or hybrid, and gives choices—and chances—to those who work for him. Not all those greedy for power are wearing the Mark, and they are _far_ more dangerous in the long run, as they have the force of law behind them. Albus knows this, and I think he is getting worried. It's not just the war we have to win; Albus also intends to win the peace, and that is going to be harder."

Lupin stared into his teacup. "_Getting_ worried? He _is_ worried. Fudge will go with whoever he thinks will come out on top, if he could only be certain who it'll be. Afterwards, he wants to take the credit and get the winners under his thumb. He'll cave, if you supply enough gold and power; he wants to do right, but in such a way that _he _wins. He also is truly afraid of Albus—not just as a Wizard, as anyone with sense would, but of his political power, which means far more to Fudge; that's why all those _Prophet_ articles last year implying the worst. Albus will balk, and Harry will balk; after that bit with the Dementors last summer—and that was _also_ Umbridge's doing, by the way—Harry will _never_ trust the Ministry again, unless someone like Arthur or Amelia Bones is in charge." He turned back toward his companion, still thinking. "Maybe _that_ is what Harry's seeing: not that he has to deal with Riddle so soon, but that the Ministry will get in the way if he doesn't?"

Snape shook his head. "I don't see that; I think Potter is focused only on Riddle. Growing up Muggle, the boy has little clue on our world's governance." He studied the letter again. "Odd, that he should mention everything _but_ what Albus told me happened at the Ministry: that the Dark Lord possessed him."

"Albus told me the same thing; and that Riddle had taunted him to kill Harry to get him. Of course, Albus wouldn't do it."

"Did he say how _Potter_ managed to survive it? Occlumency has its limits and even a skilled Occlumens, which Potter certainly was not, can't stave off a full possession by someone as powerful as the Dark Lord. I know I could not, if he _really_ wanted to do it, and I am one of the best alive."

"Yes; he hurt so badly that he wanted to die and join his parents and Sirius—and all the love he felt pushed Riddle out. Apparently it hurt Riddle, for what reason I cannot fathom." Lupin set down his cup and spread out both hands in an I-don't-know gesture.

The other man frowned. "I don't know either, and I unfortunately know more about _that_ subject—Riddle, not love—than most people. But that still begs the question of why _Potter_ feels he has to do this himself, other than the usual Gryffindor self-sacrifice, of which he has far more than his share. Albus won't tell me details, and he should not, so that I cannot be forced to tell. But his hints over the years tend to make me think that Albus thinks that Potter has to be there to finish what he started."

Lupin thought for a moment, then a look of dismay came over his face. "What if Harry is the Prophecy Child?"

"What, the one about the child born at the end of the seventh month having the power to defeat the Dark Lord? Potter already fulfilled that, if not completely, the first time around. The Dark Lord knows that one."

"Did he, now? Yes, he got us thirteen years of relative peace, but the bastard is still here." Lupin took back the letter again and scanned it until he found the lines he wanted. "Look—here in the third part: '..._now that I have _finally_ been told why I am at all important to the war effort other than as a symbol.' " _Lupin's eyes were troubled. "What if he has to be the one to do it again?"

Snape felt sick, as various bits of data started forming disquieting patterns in his mind. "That...would explain much: a lot of Potter's letter, why the Dark Lord is obsessed with killing him, and Albus' protecting him more than anyone else." His heart sank further at the thought of possible consequences. "And you know what will happen: those friends of his will trail along right with him; and he'll be either trying to protect them, or lose it altogether when they die protecting him. Merlin's beard, we're in worse trouble than we thought." Another thought hit him. "Remus, think—just _why_ did the Dark Lord spend months of planning, a major effort in long-distance Legilimency and Dream tampering, at least one murder and one attempted murder—not even including Black—and a dozen of his Inner Circle, to get _Potter_ to get a Prophecy out of the Department of Mysteries, if he already knew it? If _that_ was the prophecy he was after, then there must be more to it that he knew."

Lupin squeezed his eyes shut; that whole train of thought was getting very painful. "You know his mind-set far better than I ever will. But you also know the rules. Only the ones directly affected can access those, and Riddle couldn't very well do it himself. He _had_ to get Harry to do it, so it affects both of them. Fortunately, it was smashed before the Death Eaters got it; for once we can thank all the Fates for Neville's clumsiness. He had it in his robe pocket, and it ripped while Harry was trying to get him out of the Death Chamber; Neville was under a _Tarantellagra_ hex at the time. It broke on the concrete steps."

Snape's train of thought was no less painful. "And he was furious about it, too. Consider it from his point of view: Malfoy, one of his top lieutenants, led twelve of the most experienced Death Eaters—and they got battled to at least a draw, before the Order and the Aurors came, by six half-trained teenagers: one flake, one fumbler, one Mudblood, and the two youngest Weasleys, led by the Boy-Who-Just-Won't-Lie-Down-and-Die--_and_ failed in the mission, _and_, worst of all, got caught. If what happened to me and Pettigrew was any indication, and we weren't even there—Bella got _much_ worse for having to be personally rescued—Malfoy should be grateful he's in Azkaban; the Ministry is not as liberal with torture as the Dark Lord is." Snape didn't bother to mention just _what _had happened to him; it was part of being what he was, and he knew Lupin knew it.

Lupin's eyes hardened. "For all I care, he can do all he wants to Bellatrix: she _owes_ Harry and me for Sirius, and she _Crucioed_ Neville; he knows what she did to his parents." Snape saw an echo of the wolf flare just a little. "I have never been so _grateful_ for my curse, Severus, as when I had to keep Harry back from trying to get into the Veil and get Sirius out of it. A normal man could not have held him, even as small and thin as he is. He finally broke away and went chasing her; Riddle found them dueling in the Atrium, and that was when Albus intervened. Riddle got her away, though." He looked up, and now Snape saw even more of the wolf. "I know you sometimes have to participate in punishment sessions; give her a few extra for me if you can, huh? Or else Harry may try, and I don't want him going down that road."

Snape's dark eyes closed. "It's too late, Remus," he said softly. "He already has. Bella told us that he tried the Cruciatus on her in the Atrium, and failed to hold the effect. According to her, he didn't have enough hate to do it correctly, only righteous anger." _Never_ had he thought that he would be the one to tell something like _that_ to Remus Lupin, of all people. This was shaping up to be one of the strangest days of his life.

Remus looked horrified, and then buried his face in his hands. "Merlin—if Fudge ever finds out, that will _ruin_ any chance we have. He'll crucify Harry, tear Albus to shreds for allowing it, and Riddle will win by default! Harry can't beat him if he's in Azkaban with his wand snapped!" He looked up at the other man; while Snape's face was as hard to read as ever, his now-open eyes were haunted. "Severus, what do we do now? I don't know about you, but I'm pledged to do anything I have to in order to beat Riddle, and I will. But Harry is all I have left, and sacrificing him to this war is only if there is NO other option."

"So am I also pledged, Remus. This is why we are in the Order. You have your reasons; I have mine." He left the question unanswered.

Remus was quiet for a minute. He didn't want to break their fragile truce, but he felt the need for an answer. "Severus, what has _really_ made you come to me, and be more open, honest and civil in one afternoon than you've been in the last fifteen years? I can't imagine what it must have taken you to break years of habit and attitudes—any more than I can imagine what has driven Harry to write this disturbing letter so soon."

Snape was about to retort in his usual manner, then forced himself to reconsider; it _was_ a fair question. He replied, unusually frankly. "Because you're the only adult in the Order, apart from Albus, who knows Potter well enough to give me an informed opinion without hysterics or hedging, and I need an opinion _other_ than Albus' before I go to him with this, which I will have to do. The only other ones who even come close are the elder Weasleys; but they don't know about the Pensieve incident, or the background, and I prefer not to discuss it with them. You do know. Besides, Molly is far too protective of the boy; she will _not_ agree to anything that involves him more deeply. Between the blunt urgency I see in Harry's letter, and some of the matters Albus seems to be accelerating, I'm seeing a disturbing pattern..." His eyes were now focused elsewhere. "I have _no_ idea why Potter's letter has disturbed me so much, but I'm feeling some of his urgency. It's as if..." he trailed off, and recovered. "It's as if we _are_ getting short on time for some reason. If I've learned _one_ thing in all these years of...working for Albus, it's that wasted time cannot be recovered." He looked directly at the other man. "For me to act in my...usual manner would only waste more time. I could never have done this with Black, because he would have argued before we even got started. You are a far more adult human being than he ever was, and you are willing to see the goals as more important than keeping up the feud. I regret his loss to the Order, because for all his many faults he _was_ an excellent fighter and loyal to Albus; but working _with_ him was a serious trial for both of us."

"He was, but he was loyal to _Harry_ far more than to Albus. If you think Molly's overprotective—you weren't here that night..." Lupin squeezed his eyes shut tightly and pulled himself back under control. Now was _not_ the time to break down. He also knew that was the only condolences he would get from Snape for Sirius; he was surprised to get any at all. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then spoke again. "What you said about wasted time—you're right, and so is Harry. Siri is out of the fight now, and can't help us any more. So I ask again—what do we do now?"

Snape rose to his feet and began pacing slowly. "First, we do what Albus asked, which will also aid what Harry asked of me: look into the library here for anything on the revival ritual. I've heard enough about it so that I will recognize it if I see it; it's serious Dark Magic, no question, and Blood Magic, so I'm not surprised that Albus couldn't find anything useful at Hogwarts. Second, whether we find anything or not, we _both_ go to Albus, and lay everything on the table—and make him do so as well. I don't think it's a coincidence that he's holding a Head of House meeting next Monday, a month and a half before the usual time. This is Friday. I think we should both spend time in the library tonight, although I do have to return later tonight for the next step in your potion, if I'm to have it ready for you by Full Moon. Tomorrow morning, we go to Albus. If he sees that we are working together on this, we may get more out of him."

Lupin also rose. "Then let's get to it; I think we've squeezed out as much as we can get from the letter without more information." He turned toward the door, and stopped. "I wonder if Harry would be willing to discuss all this with both of us in person?"

Snape joined him, and they headed out the door toward the library. "Perhaps. But if we do that, I would wait until we have conferred with Albus; I want to have something solid to tell him. Assuming this letter is sincere and accurate, he will no longer accept deception, protection or half-measures." A small smirk escaped, with a little of his usual amusement at discomfiting a Potter. "Hmm...I think that might be a good idea at that; it will tell us for certain if he is indeed willing to 'pay whatever price is asked'. Surely a discussion amongst the three of us would not be so heavy a price, now would it?"

"Only if it is indeed all three of us; I want to be there to see his expression when you are civil to him!" Lupin accepted the other man's quirky attempt at humor, and answered in kind. Together, they entered the library and started searching.


	2. Severus, Remus, Albus & Harry

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and her publishers, not to me.

Spoilers: All five HP novels.

PRELUDE TO WAR--CONVERSATIONS

VI. Severus, Remus and Albus

The library search had not been too successful, but what they had found, Snape brought back to Hogwarts with him. It was too late to confer with Dumbledore that night, but he left a note of his return and the book titles, and asked for a conference late the next morning, for the time he and Lupin had agreed would be all right for both of them. He then added the next ingredient to the Wolfsbane before it needed to simmer quietly for a day. After putting away his working tools, he fell into bed for a few hours of sleep.

About ten the next morning, Snape headed out to the Entrance Hall and met with Lupin. "Ready?" he asked.

"Not really, but I doubt any of us are," Lupin replied. "Let's go up; I want to see what sweet Albus is using for a password _this_ week!"

Snape scowled, as the two men climbed the stairs. "It's worse than just sweets. He seems to be in a cycle of those damnable prank sweets the Weasley twins invented. Last week it was 'Nosebleed Nougats'; Minerva was appalled. I wonder if he wasn't something of a prankster himself, when he was at Hogwarts."

Lupin smiled wryly. "Well, since there are not many living contemporaries of his to ask, and the Headmaster of his time likely was never told everything, I guess we'll have to ask him. But do you _really_ want to know that much?"

Snape considered that, and shook his head. "I think we're going to have enough to deal with today, without dredging up _really_ ancient history. Somehow, I don't think it will be helpful." The two continued in silence.

Arriving at the gargoyle guardian, Snape offered, "Ton-Tongue Toffees". He gave the other man a look, almost daring him to smirk, as they both ascended the moving staircase and arrived at the door. Lupin refused the bait and kept his face calm, as they entered the Headmaster's office.

"Severus, I didn't know you were bringing Remus in on this. Welcome, both of you," Dumbledore greeted, rising to hold out his hand. Both men shook hands with him, then settled down on the guest chairs. After accepting tea and refusing lemon drops, Snape opened the discussion; as was his custom, he went directly to the point.

"Headmaster, I know that you received a letter from Harry Potter yesterday, as you know I did. I was quite disturbed by my letter, the more so since he asked about the same thing you asked me about: the Dark Lord's revival ritual. In fact, the entire letter was so disturbing—and had a sense of urgency I could not understand, but felt—I took the liberty of going to the only other adult in the Order who knows the boy well enough—_and_ who knows about some of what was brought up in the letter—to give me a clearer perspective on it. For the purposes of both this discussion, and for Order reasons, we—Remus and I—have decided to call a truce between ourselves. We spent a good part of the afternoon and evening yesterday dissecting the letter and related background information, and now we need to discuss it with you."

Lupin took up the thread. "However, we are likely going to need you to tell _us_ a few things: what did you tell Harry after the Ministry incident? And what is he asking of you? If we are to help Harry, wouldn't it be better to work together, so that our interests don't collide? Too much is at stake now."

Dumbledore sat back in his padded armchair, considering the two men before him. He had long hoped that they would come to something of a working arrangement, but hadn't expected it so quickly. Harry had obviously upset the Potions Master far more than the man was willing to show; that he had acted so quickly and decisively to make a truce with one of his most detested enemies, about one of his least-favorite students, spoke volumes. While he ached with the pain Harry had shown in his own letter, he could rejoice in the reconciliation—even if temporary--that Severus' letter had obviously caused. Maybe the outlook wasn't quite as grim as he feared.

"I think that the first thing to do, if Severus does not object, is for the two of us to exchange letters and read them; then you, Remus, should read mine as well. Once all of us have the same information, then we can discuss it intelligently." Dumbledore reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a scroll addressed to him. This he handed to Snape, who drew out a similar one from a robe pocket and handed it back. The room was silent as the two men read each other's missives, broken by a soft exclamation of "Merlin's beard..." from Snape. He then handed the scroll to Lupin, who read it quietly, but looked increasingly pained.

Once all had finished reading, there was silence—which was broken by Fawkes, who flew down from his perch and settled onto Dumbledore's desk within easy petting range; he then trilled a soft song that managed to ease the minds of all three men a little. Dumbledore smiled fondly at the Phoenix and petted his head.

"So you think there's hope, do you?" he softly spoke to the bird. "I do wish you could be more detailed, so that we could all sleep better at night."

"Damn bird is more cryptic than oracles, and you know my opinion of Divination," grumbled Snape. He sat up a little straighter. "Now that we've all read both letters, I have to say that my initial opinion hasn't changed much. Potter is obviously driven by some urgency to put aside five years of justifiably detesting me, and probably some of the blame for Black's demise, _and_ both Black's and his father's feud with me, to ask for more of what was obviously painful to him the first time around—and on top of that, offers in exchange to settle the old scores in a manner I had not thought him capable of. Now that I see Albus' letter, I also note that Potter has not only actually paid attention to what I am doing, he is showing a concern for _my_ life and health that I would have thought impossible, to say nothing of his endorsement of my loyalty. He wants to protect his friends, yes; that shows quite clearly, in this and what I've seen over the years. He doesn't want to lose anyone else. That I can understand. But _me_? Or has he finally taken the blinders off and calculated what I can do to help him achieve his goal?"

"That, I think I can answer, Severus," replied Dumbledore calmly. "This is the same thing that saved him from Tom in the Ministry. Harry has more compassion, more caring, and more heart than any other three people I can think of; with those feelings, Tom cannot bear to stay in Harry's mind. He also carries around a horrific amount of totally unwarranted guilt for not preventing all of Tom's depredations. However, he is finally realizing that while the final battle _is_ his, getting to it is not his _alone_. He is finally learning to ask for help, and is trying to give us advice and help, so that what needs to be done is done sooner rather than later. Only then, assuming he survives, will he feel free to accept the life that he is entitled to; in his own mind, until Tom is gone, he is bound to put aside all the rest. I think he is also realizing that he must survive long enough to _get_ to the end, and the battle that awaits him. And Sirius' death, while immensely painful for him, served not to drive him deeper into depression, as I feared it would, but to catalyze his resolve, as I _hoped_ it would."

"That still doesn't answer this: why does he act as if he cares about _my_ life? Surely he understands that if he's willing to give up his own to bring down the Dark Lord, mine is equally expendable, as I am pledged as an Order member. I find it far more easy to believe that his new resolve to complete his...task...has finally shown him sense and that I can help him get there if he lets me do what _I_ must, which includes risking my life."

"For exactly the reason he stated in his letter to Albus," Lupin put in. "You're a human being, in a way another victim of Riddle; and no matter what he thinks of you, or you of him, he doesn't want any action of his to cost you your life if it can be at all prevented. To him, lives are too precious to waste, and _that_ is the lesson he just learned so bitterly." Lupin picked up both letters and scanned parts of each. "Severus, I know what you're thinking; that he's willing to put aside all the bad feelings long enough to win the war, then take it up afterwards, assuming you both survive. You're wrong there. I think what you're seeing here—and it's so rare I've hardly seen it myself—is the _real_ Harry Potter. Not the Boy-Who-Lived, not the Wizarding Savior, not the Gryffindor Golden Boy, not the Quidditch star, not the unwanted freak, and most definitely not just the son of James Potter. He's very open about his feelings in some ways; in others, his masks are almost as good as yours. It bothers you, because he's never let you see it before. All you've ever seen is what he thinks he needs to be in your class, or the little you've pried out of him in training with you; he has never fully trusted you, so he never showed everything. That, I think, is more of what he learned at his relatives'. But now, he's dropping pride, masks, everything, to do whatever he has to do, and do it quickly, before more lives are lost. As he pointed out, a life lost cannot be given back."

"Unless you're a Dark Wizard who knows a revival ritual," Snape reminded. "And while we're on that: just what _does_ Harry have in mind that requires a live Pettigrew—apart from the obvious intelligence advantages--complete with silver hand?" He seemed a little relieved to get the discussion off himself; he hadn't even noticed that he said "Harry" instead of "Potter".

"That, I think, we are going to have to ask Harry, as he mentioned in my letter, Severus," the Headmaster replied. "I must admit that I'm curious as to just what he has in mind. One event about which Harry has horribly mixed feelings _is_ the fact that he spared Peter Pettigrew that night in the Shrieking Shack, rather than see Remus and Sirius commit murder, or do so himself. Had he not done so, Peter would not have been in a position to escape, then to participate in the revival. This is a matter of unintended consequences: to prevent a wrong, he unwittingly helped set the stage for a far worse wrong. On the other hand, had Peter been killed, Voldemort would certainly have found some other way; when or how, I have no idea. We would have also lost not one, but two fighters for the Light, as Remus would have certainly been taken as an accomplice once he had returned to human form, and Fudge was just a little too eager to use the Dementors. Whether the children would have been charged I don't know, but the fact that they had stunned you would have both spared you from charges and in turn added charges to them." He refreshed his tea, and took a sip. "However that may be: we must deal with what is, instead of what we wish were so. And what _is_, is that Harry spared a man's life within his power to justly take or allow to be taken, and thus is owed a Wizard's Life Debt. How that may be made use of, I do not yet know." He looked from one to the other. "Did you find anything in the Black Library?"

"Some books on Blood Rituals in general, and two that mention it, but nothing that specific," Snape replied, and Lupin nodded in agreement. "I may try to see if I can find anything in Malfoy Manor's library; until Lucius is out of prison—and it's a matter of when, not if--I can deal with Narcissa and Draco, especially if they think it's something for the Dark Lord. However, I would not be surprised to learn that the Dark Lord devised the ritual himself; he is that competent. I think we may learn a great deal from the Pensieve memory that Potter has offered me—and that offer was a surprise in and of itself."

"Do so if you can, but do not risk yourself greatly," Dumbledore responded. "This is possibly useful, but not worth your life."

Snape nodded. He also had his own family books to look through, but his titles tended to deal mostly with potions. "I, too, would be interested in this idea of his," he commented. "For that matter, and this also surprises me, some of his other suggestions have a certain amount of merit. Getting a decent DADA professor should be _very_ high on the priority list; I don't think this school can survive another Umbridge. Continuing the DA is also an excellent idea, but I think the advanced members are going to need an adult advisor; there is just too much potential for serious injury. I would suggest Tonks, if you can get her, unless she's your DADA candidate this time."

Dumbledore sat back with a little smile. "As a matter of fact, I _do_ have an idea, and this is one I intend to bring up at the House Heads' meeting Monday. Severus, I want you to look through the lists of recent graduates and find someone competent to teach Potions to the first four years; you will still be the Potions Master, teach the three upper years, and cover as needed. I would prefer a Journeyman or a new Master, who will understand that he or she is subordinate to you. A retiree will be acceptable as well. You will also be the Defense professor for the same three forms. Remus, you will have the first four years of Defense; Severus will cover your classes on Full Moon days, and if he cannot, I will, or call in someone; even a student teacher, such as Miss Granger, will do well enough for the lowest classes. This will give Severus time to do more upper-year independent study mentoring in _both_ subjects, which is, I think, a much better use of his time and exceptional talents in both subjects than the beginner levels. It will also give us _two_ trusted Order members in two dangerous subjects, and allow both of you the time and ability to work with the students who will need you the most—the Fifth- and Sixth-Years who are the core of the DA, _and_ the Slytherins that are most vulnerable to recruitment." His smile grew broader at the shock on Lupin's face. "Every one of the Fifth- and Seventh-Year students who was a member of the DA scored an E or O on their DADA OWLs and NEWTs. All the other years' members did comparably well on their end-of-year exams. Those who depended on the 'approved' teaching course scored almost acceptably on their written tests, and poorly on their practicals; in fact, there will be at least one remedial class for all Houses devoted to practical DADA for those students who scored an A or less on the OWL and wish to retake it with this years' Fifth-Years."

Lupin gulped down the lump in his throat; the job he had most enjoyed in the last few years _was_ the year he had taught at Hogwarts. "Albus...how can I possibly teach here, especially the younger children? The Ministry and the Board of Governors will never allow it, to say nothing of the parents! That is why I resigned the last time!" He carefully failed to mention who had exposed him as a werewolf; that was past, and part of what he and Snape would have to ignore, if their truce was to hold.

Dumbledore's smile grew into a smirk. "Well...it seems that after this _last_ fiasco of the Ministry appointing a Professor, I have been given a free rein to appoint whom I please this time. When I pointed out that the most truly competent professor we have had in the last five years was also the most popular, despite his condition, the Minister was willing to allow me to give you another trial. Besides, your teaching style is more suitable for the younger ones than Severus' is; the older ones are used to him. I have guaranteed on my personal bond that you will faithfully take your Wolfsbane, provided at school expense by the Hogwarts Potions Master, and will be suitably secured at the correct times, with a competent substitute." The smirk grew into a genuine grin at the shocked face of the werewolf. "I am more than pleased that the two of you are now able to work together, as you are going to be doing a good deal of it this year."

Snape looked dismayed. "Are we to continue our public enmity, or are we to appear to work together? I can see a good many complications here. And how well did the Serpent's Fang students do?" As there had been no Slytherins in the DA, a separate secret defense practical seminar had been held in the dungeon for Slytherins, who had seen the same faults in Umbridge that the DA students had, but would or could not work with a club led by Gryffindors loyal to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore's smile did not fade. "Quite well, actually; no one scored below an A and the majority were Es and Os. As to your joint public image, I see no reason not to continue as before in public; it will certainly show both of you off well on your respective sides. In fact, I can see a sort of rivalry as to which of you can teach DADA better!" His smile dimmed a little, although the twinkle in his eyes did not. "Seriously, Remus will be setting an excellent example of how to behave in public under the stress of your usual acid wit, without challenging you to a duel every other day—same as he did last time, only under better conditions. The same rules apply as before: no unprofessional behavior. If you want to start a Dueling Club, you may, but both of you should be involved."

Snape nodded; that was a role he was used to. Lupin, however, had been seriously thinking on some of the other points that Dumbledore had mentioned.

"You said that 'the final battle is his alone'—what do you mean by that? One of the theories that we discussed yesterday is of Harry being the Prophecy Child. Severus says he fulfilled it, if not completely; I say that since it was an incomplete result, it isn't fulfilled yet. The conclusion we drew is that _you_ believe he has to do it again."

Albus sighed sadly. "Unfortunately, you are right; Harry _is_ the Prophecy Child. I will not repeat the entire Prophecy, if only for Severus' sake, as the entirety of it _was_ what Tom spent so much effort to get; but it is indeed Harry who is fated to make a final end of Tom. Unfortunately, it does _not_ rule out the reverse. Since the copy was broken last month, Harry and I are now the only ones who know the full prophecy, and I intend it to stay that way. And in answer to one of your original questions, that is one of the things I told him when we returned; the rest was admitting to my errors over the years in handling him, one of them being not telling him about the Prophecy last year after the Tri-Wizard Tasks, and admitting my share of the fault in Sirius Black's death." He bowed his head. "Needless to say, he did not take it well; that is the matter for which he apologized to me."

"What about the prophet?" asked Lupin.

"Sibyll Trelawney is a Trance Seer; she does not remember what she Sees in trance, or even that she has Seen," Dumbledore replied. "This one was one of her two known accurate ones; the one she made in the Divination classroom two years ago was the other."

Snape gave an answering sigh. "So—this is what we are dealing with: the Dark Lord is fated to be brought down by someone who is barely half-trained, and is only _now_ realizing what his teachers and mentors are for, and acts as if he's cooking up another Gryffindor mad scheme for dealing with the matter in a hurry!" He rubbed his forehead; he was getting another headache, and some of his customary pessimism was returning. He had decided, though: he would help the boy as much as he could, while still dancing on the tightrope of being a spy, until the inevitable day when he was found out—and helping Potter too much in school was likely to be looked upon as just as treasonous to his other Master as failing to provide information. Perhaps one of the Advanced Potions students could help him with a way to survive that day, instead of relying on having a Last Friend Potion at hand. The one thing he craved, and refused to let himself have, was hope—hope that he could help win the war and survive it, and have a life afterwards.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, that is what we have to deal with now. But, before you condemn his 'mad Gryffindor scheme' out of hand, the least we can do to help him is to find out what it _is_. I propose that we meet with him tomorrow: Fawkes can bring him here, or we can go there; all three of us should go."

"If we go there," offered Lupin, "I suggest that we meet at Arabella's. Considering that his relatives hate us, I don't want him suffering consequences for having more 'freaks' in his house."

Snape shook his head. "On the contrary: I think we should go directly there, possibly having Fawkes take us into his very room. I wish to get some idea of the people he is with, and his study surroundings, so that I may make the best recommendations for the books he has asked me for." He gave one of his sardonic smiles. "And if we three, of all people—a Death Eater, a Werewolf, and the greatest Light Wizard alive—cannot get the better of three wretched Muggles, one of them Potter's age, we should _all_ give up our wands and retire to the locked ward at St. Mungo's; we would not be fit to be men, let alone Wizards." The other two men chuckled at that; some of the acidic Snape they were used to was returning.

"I think I agree with Severus; his aunt's greatest fear is having odd people on her doorstep for the neighbors to see. Using Fawkes will also avoid the protection and anti-Apparation wards, which are unfortunately set now to keep out _anyone_ with the Mark." Dumbledore's calm voice belied his emotions; inside, he was cheering madly. He had hoped that Snape would someday see a reason to work with Harry without constant quarrelling. This, at least, was a start. "We are agreed, then: we shall answer both his letters in person, with Remus to be a buffer and friendly voice. I think this time tomorrow morning will do."

The other two men assented, so Dumbledore took out parchment and quill and sent a note off with Fawkes.

It was Remus who brought up the next question. "However, there _is_ one item that he asked about, and I don't have an answer yet. What about Sirius' estate?"

"I am expecting a communication shortly from the Goblins at Gringotts," Dumbledore replied. "One of the matters I impressed quite firmly upon Cornelius Fudge that night at the Ministry, and subsequently, was that one of the wrong men that the Aurors had been chasing _was_ Sirius. Remember, Fudge was the first investigator on the scene after the original explosion. I have submitted a Wizarding affidavit of Sirius' innocence and the fact that Peter is alive; if _my_ word and Wand Oath are not good enough for the Ministry and the Wizengamot, then they will have to take the word of Harry Potter and his friends, who after all _were_ witnesses to Peter's transformation, and Harry himself to the revival ritual; I would prefer that the students not have to endure that. At any rate, one of the matters I told Cornelius was of Sirius' demise through the Veil, so his estate should clear very soon. He did have a will, as all of us do, and had it in Gringotts; while I do not know all the details, I am the executor, along with one of the Goblin estate officers. The Goblins don't particularly care about a man's legal status in our society, so long as he doesn't cheat _them_. As the last male Black, he had more freedom to dispose of the estate than if there were other male Black heirs. He was planning to disinherit the Death Eater relatives, so anything that was entailed should go to Andromeda Black Tonks, and to her daughter. The rest, apart from some residual bequests and trusts, was for Remus, Harry, and the Order; the house would stay for our use. In any case, Remus, whichever one turns out to actually own Grimmauld Place, you will have rights to lifetime tenancy in that house, or in any other real estate in the holdings."

The werewolf's eyes were now full of tears that he would _not_ let fall. "Thank you, Albus," he said. "I know Siri would never have wanted anything of his to go to the Malfoys or Lestranges."

Snape leaned forward to make a comment. "However, one of the _very_ few things about which I _did_ agree with Black wholeheartedly: is there any way to remove that abominable portrait? Maybe get Bill Weasley and Filius to team up on it? And soon, before one of us snaps and takes down the entire wall and half the house?" This broke the tension, as he had intended it to do; his truce with Remus was still new and fragile and he did not want to make matters worse by witnessing the other man break down.

"Maybe you can devise a potion to take the portrait off the canvas, Severus," Dumbledore smiled. With that, the three men went down to the Great Hall for some well-deserved luncheon.


	3. Conversations: Harry

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and her publishers, not to me.

Spoilers: All five HP novels.

VII: Harry (Friday and Saturday, 5-6 July 1996)

After he sent off Hedwig to Mrs. Figg's with the letters to be forwarded to Remus and Professors Dumbledore and Snape, Harry was full of second and third thoughts. _What if they think it's all rubbish? Snape has belittled my thinking for five years; he barely acknowledges I have a mind. And Dumbledore has been trying to do all the planning for me all this time._ However, he was firm about one thing. _If I did nothing else, I at least _tried_ to do the right thing, and if I violated some custom or another, I'm sure I will be told. Besides, Snape might not care about setting things right, but if he tells Dumbledore about it, the Headmaster will, if for no other reason than that he's one of the few people who gives a bloody damn about Snape. If they won't listen to me, I'll find some other way. I can't just NOT act any more, but I can't afford to go into things blindly any more either._

He cast his mind back over what he had sent, mentally rewriting some of the sections. _Stop it, Potter,_ he mentally scolded himself. _The letters are sent and will get there today or tomorrow. You can't edit letters already sent._ He gave a sigh, took out a match swiped from the kitchen, and incinerated all the paper drafts of the letters (he had not wanted to waste his limited supply of parchment and ink on rough drafts).

_Soon enough I'll find out what they think of my ideas._ He checked the clock; then he went downstairs to do chores.

The next day, he was tidying his room, when suddenly there was a flash of flame. "Fawkes!" he said happily. The Headmaster's phoenix glided over to perch on the foot of the bed. With a soft trill, he held out one foot for Harry to remove the scroll attached thereon. Harry did, and offered the bird an Owl Treat, which Fawkes took politely, then rubbed his head on Harry's hand.

Harry's fingers were trembling as he broke the seal and unrolled it. It read:

_Dear Harry—_

_We are in receipt of your quite interesting letters. As you stated therein, some of the points mentioned need to be discussed in person, and soon. Therefore, if it is agreeable to you, then Remus Lupin, Professor Snape, and I would like to meet with you in your room at Privet Drive tomorrow morning at ten. The reason for this, in part, is security; actually, your quarters are more secure from eavesdropping than almost anywhere in the magical world; our presence there, if we stay in your room, will be less noticed than bringing you here or elsewhere. It may be a good idea to notify your Aunt and Uncle, and assure them that we will not be seen from the outside nor will we interfere with their Sunday schedule at all; Fawkes will be transporting us directly into your room. I will bring refreshments, so that your Aunt does not have to be put out if this goes through the noon hour. The conference may take a while, as both your letters were quite detailed. Any other needs that we have, I can take care of; my own magic will not set off the wards or alarms._

_Please do not be concerned about our reactions; you are not in trouble. We all agree that you have some valid points worthy of discussion, and like you we do not wish to waste more time. Please reply with Fawkes; he will wait, and is the most secure communication link available._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster, etc. _

Harry was a little surprised; he had only sent Remus the quick "I'm all right" note required by the Order. He wasn't really surprised that the Headmaster knew the contents of both letters; likely Snape had conferred with him. And he was also not too surprised about their mode of transportation: while Remus was fairly good in choosing Muggle clothing, he still tended to look a bit down-at-heels; Snape probably detested Muggle wear, and the Headmaster was likely to indulge in his whimsy a bit too much for this staid neighborhood. No, direct in-and-out was much better for all concerned, and using Fawkes circumvented the Anti-Apparation wards. He got out a pen and wrote on the bottom of the note:

_Dear Professor: Got your note; tomorrow is fine and so is all the rest. HP_

Re-rolling the parchment, he attached it to Fawkes' leg, and then took the time to give him a head scratch before the bird took off and vanished in a flash of flame.


	4. Harry, Albus, Remus & Severus

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and her publishers, not to me. I'm not making money off this.

Spoilers: All five HP novels.

PRELUDE TO WAR—MUSINGS AND CONVERSATIONS

VIII: Harry, Albus, Remus and Severus (Sunday, 7 July, 1996)

Harry rose early the next morning, determined to get all his chores out of the way before his professors came to call. After assorted cleaning, mopping and tidying, and fixing the usual Sunday breakfast, he started back up to his room, but was stopped while Vernon Dursley made his opinion of the whole matter known.

"Boy! Your...people...had better not make a sound anyone else can hear outside this house. I will not have it said that anyone in this house consorts with...nutters!"

"These aren't nutters; they are Professors of mine, and one is the Headmaster of my school," Harry replied, doing his best not to snap back. "If anyone is able to appear normal, or out of sight, he is; he's one of the greatest of our kind alive."

"He had better be. Just keep them in your room until they go away, and let us know when they are gone."

"It will take at least a couple or three hours; we are planning my future course of study for the next two years."

"Fine, so long as _we _don't have to see or hear them." With that, Vernon went into the living room to start on the Sunday _Times._

Harry continued up the stairs and into his shabby room. He looked around to be sure it was as tidy as it was going to get, then sat down at his desk to await his visitors.

Promptly at ten, a larger flash of flame appeared, and then the room was full: Dumbledore, Lupin and Snape let go of Fawkes and landed neatly on the floor. The Headmaster was the first to greet his host.

"Harry, thank you for hosting us."

"You're welcome. Uh, this is the only chair in here..." Harry slid out of the desk chair, offering it to the Headmaster; he then gestured to the neatly made bed for the other two men. "Good morning, Professors, Remus." He nodded politely, and then sat down on the floor. All three nodded in return.

"Nonsense, my boy, for a serious chat we ought to all be comfortable," Dumbledore said gently. "We _are_ Wizards after all, and since you are still underage I will take care of things." With a couple of wand flourishes, the small bed was Transfigured into a comfortable sofa, easily large enough for the three older Wizards; Harry's chair was enlarged and cushioned, until it resembled one of the guest chairs in Dumbledore's office. A low table appeared between the chair and the couch, with a tea service, four cups, and a plate of biscuits. A perch for Fawkes also appeared, with a food bowl; it appeared that the Phoenix would also be staying. Dumbledore then sat down on the newly-made couch, with Snape on his left and Lupin on his right; Harry got up and sat in the chair, half-wishing he could keep it that way, but knowing that it would be confiscated or destroyed if the Dursleys saw it in its current state. Some things were really not worth a quarrel.

When all were settled, and tea had been served, Dumbledore opened the discussion. "As the eldest and senior, I claim first right to speak." He looked directly at Harry. "First of all, your generous apology is more than accepted. I, too, am glad things did not come to blows between us; I think the portraits would have been even more scandalized!"

Harry didn't know what to make of that last comment, so he said, "Did you tell them I'll apologize when I'm next there?"

"I did indeed, and I will hold you to it; some of my predecessors were very proud men and women, with a far less informal attitude than I have. I have especially explained things to Phineas; he is of two minds on the matter, in that he was pleased in a way that you were acting in the name of his last descendant, but appalled at how you behaved to me, your superior in his eyes. A separate chat with him may help." Dumbledore consulted a parchment, then said, "As to the trinkets and furniture, all were easily repaired or replaced, and some were put away; the office _was_ getting cluttered, after all. Payment is not needed. So, from my view, all is forgiven. You were acting under a horrible load of pain, and if breaking things helped to ease it at all--well, maybe that is another use to which you can put the Room of Requirement." The twinkle was back in full force for a moment, but then dimmed more than a little. "I, too, must apologize, for all the wrongs I have done to you, the mistakes I have made that caused you pain, and most of all, for seriously underestimating you again and again. As I said then, many of them were the mistakes of an old man who has seen and done too much, and often forgets there are other ways to do things." He stood, and held out his hand to Harry. "Friends again?" His eyes met Harry's, but with no feeling of Legilimency. This was just an honest, direct meeting of eyes.

Harry stood as well, and took the offered hand. "Friends, Sir." He truly hated to be at odds with the old man; Harry cared about him more than he would admit. If the Headmaster was willing to make amends, Harry could do no less. Besides, as he had said, one of their problems was wasted time, and prolonging a quarrel needlessly was doing just that. They both needed each other too badly for that. However, his trust would not be fully regained until he saw some results. He had a feeling that Dumbledore knew this.

Both sat down, and the Headmaster continued. "I have been in discussion with the Ministry for some time about the Underage Magic Restrictions. While I have not had an answer yet, I have hopes that the restrictions may be lifted within the residences of underage witches and wizards, down to First-Years--if they have passed, at the end of term, an examination of their knowledge of the laws on proper use of magic, and a practical on very basic safe usage. Anyone who has passed the OWLs and above would be exempt from the examination. With things appearing to be headed the way they are, we need more able defenders, not fewer, without fear of legal reprisal, especially in areas such as this where there are few magic-users to help each other. Prosecuting First-Years for using a little Transfiguration to make Yule ornaments or for Stunning an intruder is, in my mind, a waste of the legal resources more properly allocated to serious offenses. When I have more information, I will let you know, but a waiver such as this would have prevented the case against you last year for defending yourself and your cousin."

Harry thought that one over. "That is something that shouldn't have happened in the first place, but thank you for trying." Another thought struck him. "Is there going to be any punishment for Umbridge for sending the Dementors after me, and using that horrible quill in detentions?"

Snape spoke up for the first time. "_You_ were one of the victims of her Blood Quill?"

"Is that what it is called? I had never heard of it before."

"Yes, and that is a Dark Artifact, prohibited for use in schools, and the use of which on a student carries a one-year sentence to Azkaban and a hefty fine, depending on the number of victims," Snape replied. "I have heard about Mr. Jordan, and some others, but not that you were one of those involved. Why did you tell no one?"

"Because I was serving detentions for telling the truth, when she told me it was for telling lies," Harry replied softly, not looking at the man. "Professor McGonagall _told_ me not to cross Umbridge, but I could not let her stand there in the classroom and tell lies--about Cedric, and about Riddle!" He realized he was starting to get loud. "Uh, Professor, could you please cast a Silencing Charm? I really don't want any of this to be heard by the rest of the household, and they don't want to hear that anything is going on up here at all." This side request enabled him to get control of himself again; he was still too easily triggered. "And after that, she was in charge, and I didn't want to endanger any of the other teachers, especially Professor McGonagall." He unconsciously clenched his fists. "A lot of good it did; she got hurt anyway. She will be all right, won't she?"

"Oh, yes, she no longer needs her cane now, and will be totally recovered before the start of term." assured Dumbledore. He flicked his wand lightly and cast the Silencing Charm. "There; we can hear outside if we need to, but they will not be able to hear us."

Lupin leaned forward, "Harry, what is that on your hand?"

"That's what her quill did to my hand when I wrote lines." "I must not tell lies" was engraved on the back of his hand. "Hermione fixed it up with murtlap essence, so it's not as bad as it could have been." He held out his hand for the others to see.

Dumbledore sighed and shook his head. "I think that the majority of our problems all last year can be laid to various types of poor communication. Quite a few people were not given information they should have had, when they should have had it." He looked at Harry again, then took the scarred hand in both of his own and examined it closely. "I think this can be healed. See Madam Pomfrey when you get back to school, and have her give this a closer examination." He gently pressed the hand, and let go. "But to your original question: Dolores Umbridge is still in St. Mungo's, and there is no date indicated for her recovery; until then, a trial cannot be held. Be sure that there _will_ be one, as soon as she has recovered enough to stand trial." His voice grew that much harder. "One thing I _cannot_ abide is the unwarranted torture of the children under my care; she _will _pay for this, _and_ for the Dementors, one way or another. So will anyone who conspired with her to do such things, whether they are Death Eaters or Ministry officials. This is a matter of personal and professional honor for me, that I allowed this to happen under my watch; I _will not_ be fooled again." A little of his true power was showing—the power that made him such a feared adversary. This was not a Wizard to cross lightly, where the well-being of his children was involved. Harry nodded, and let that matter drop for now.

Dumbledore remembered something else. "Last on that, and then we may put Ms. Umbridge aside: I have this for you." He took something small out of his pocket, and enlarged it; it was Harry's Firebolt broomstick. "It was indeed in the dungeon, but there are no security trolls there now. I have personally checked it for hexes, and had it cleaned and polished for you, so it should be in no worse condition than before."

Harry took it with the first smile any of them had seen that day. "Thank you, sir; this means a lot to me." Another thought struck him, as he carefully put away his treasured broom. "What about all those Educational Directives?"

"Those have also been set aside. Really, I have been able to wring a number of concessions out of Minister Fudge, in exchange for not publicly embarrassing him; rescinding those directives was among them." Harry sighed in relief; he could play Quidditch again, if he could make the time.

"Next is the matter of the extra training and books you have asked for. I have brought you the books for your core Sixth-Year classes; Professor Snape has found you a book on Occlumency, and Professor Lupin--" his eyes twinkled again--"has brought you a book on Muggle meditation techniques; they can be done without magic, and may be a more effective method of clearing your mind."

"'Professor' Lupin?!" Harry didn't miss that one, nor the smile on Lupin's face.

"Yes, I had already planned to recall Remus to the Defense post. After last year's catastrophic selection from the Ministry, for which they received quite a few Howlers from parents, they were only too happy to let me have my way, so long as I can assure them that his special needs will be provided for, and that an adequate substitute will be available as needed. However, I have decided to try something different this time: he will not be _your_ Defense Professor; he will be teaching the first four forms. I have someone who is somewhat more advanced in both Dark Arts and combat for the upper levels." Dumbledore sat back with a smile.

Harry didn't miss the slight smirk on Snape's face, either. "You, sir?" he asked.

"Indeed, Mr. Potter," he replied; the smirk widened a little. "I will be teaching all of the OWL, Advanced and NEWT Defense classes, and the upper-level Potions classes as well; another professor will be found for the first four levels in that subject. There will also be a Remedial Practical DADA class, taught by Professor Lupin, for those students unfortunate enough to depend solely on last year's assigned written work, and who did not take the--initiative--to practice outside of class. This will be voluntary, and open to anyone who scored an A or less on the DADA OWL or NEWT, or the comparable end-of-year exams on the other levels, after which the exams may be retaken. This includes former Seventh-Years, and their records will be amended as needed." He inclined his head toward Harry. "You, however, along with certain of your cohorts, appear to have no need for such a remedial class, and I look forward to _personally_ seeing just how much you _did_ learn in your extracurricular Defense study group known as 'Dumbledore's Army'. I will be interested to compare the results with those from the Slytherin 'Serpent's Fangs' study group."

"'Serpent's Fangs'?"

"Yes. There were quite a few people in my House who could not or would not endure a group run largely by Gryffindors, but saw the same major fault in Umbridge's curriculum as you and Miss Granger did: lack of practical exercises. All the students in both groups scored at least an A on the DADA practical, and there were many Es and Os."

Harry nodded; that made sense to him that the Slytherins should form their own group. There was no lack of intelligence in that House, after all. "I think we can all agree on that, sir."

"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded. "The primary instructors were some Seventh-Years who are quite talented." He looked over his notes again. "Now—next, a related subject, your request to form a junior Order for those who are underage but willing to commit to the war already. I think _that_ idea has much merit. Not all members of the Order are involved in everything. There are already members of the Order who are helping in one specific field: Madam Pomfrey is one. She is the one who knows why Professor Snape spends so much time in his quarters at certain times rather than the less-secure Hospital Wing. I do not see why we cannot include students, who are going to be involved anyway, so long as what they are doing do not intentionally put them in harm's way; that should remove the loudest objections from Molly Weasley and others who do not approve of students knowing too much. That is not what we believe in: we, the parents and teachers, are supposed to be guiding and guarding the next generation, not sending it off to war." He gave another sad sigh. "But war _has_ come again, you young people _are_ in it whether we will or no, and it is now our duty to give you the tools you need to survive it; we can no longer guarantee your safety. You have given me quite cogent reasons to include your comrades from the Ministry battle, and I can think of some others who could make a valuable contribution. Research, training and strategy practice are perfectly suitable activities for students, and will help to free the older members for more active duty." The blue eyes were now shadowed. "You are our future; you are what many of us are fighting _for_, so that another generation does not sacrifice its youth to having to fight Tom's schemes, as did your parents' generation. Too many of you already have." He looked directly at Harry. "I will present your suggestion to the next meeting of the full Order. Assuming they accept the idea, we will ask an oath of allegiance and determine what this will mean to each of you. If you pass the other tests, which for you yourself is a given, I see no reason why you cannot become junior or auxiliary members before summer is over."

Both Lupin and Snape sat there with bent heads; both had survived the first war with Voldemort directly out of school. After a brief silence, Dumbledore continued.

"That covers all the points you addressed to me alone. I will now let Professor Snape respond to your letter to him; then we will take up the matters you addressed to both of us."

Snape raised his head, and looked directly at Harry. Again, there was no feeling of Legilimency, just directness. Harry met the dark gaze as calmly as he could. "When I received your letter, I was highly disturbed for several reasons. You showed more coherence and intelligence in it than in most of the essays you have written for me, and without help from Miss Granger, at a time when I expected you to have none. In your letter to the Headmaster, you showed that you do, indeed, understand what I do for the Order, and somewhat of the cost." A very slight smile showed. "I am gratified in your faith in my loyalty, although it would be a mistake to trust me _too_ much: some of what I may be obliged to do to maintain my cover may, in the end, be more than upsetting to you and cause you to question me." He held his head higher. "But, here and now, I do reaffirm my oath to the Order, and to the goal of making an end of Tom Riddle and his organization, no matter the cost to myself. I now know some of the reasons why you are the focus of our effort, and to that end, I will do all that is in my power to get you what you need to achieve that goal." The smile faded; Snape leaned forward and spoke more quietly and intensely. "But, please remember the cost you have so clearly seen: you already know that at any time, I may be called. One day, it _will_ be for the last time. You have shown uncommon generosity under extremely trying conditions, and in that, I see Lily, not James. Do not add me to your list of those you care for; that is a guarantee of more pain for you, at a time when you do not need it. Keep me on the list of reliable and expendable enemies, instead, and that may make things easier."

Harry nodded sadly. "So long as it gets us to where we are all trying to go, I will try to understand. Ron is the one you're going to have to convince. I'm not sure that he passed his OWL high enough for your NEWT Potions class, but it is going to be a rude awakening for him to have you for NEWT Defense. I would suggest that you talk to Arthur—not Molly—and see if he can convince Ron where you stand. He sees too much in pure black and white, and you are really neither. Besides, you have been favoring the Slytherins in class for just that reason; this is only more of the same." He looked back into the man's eyes. "But I will not treat you as less worthy than any other Order member, Sir; I cannot, even though we don't like each other. You are intelligent and cunning enough that you have lasted this long; you may yet surprise yourself and survive."

"I may wish for that, but I refuse to expect it." Snape paused for a moment; then returned to his notes. "Be that as it may—because you were showing a side of yourself I had no idea existed, I went for advice to Remus Lupin: he is the only adult in the Order, bar Albus, who knows you at all well enough to determine if you were both serious and sane, _and_ who knows about the matters you mentioned. In the course of that discussion, Remus and I have decided to at least call a truce, as our relationship has been colored by the old quarrels. We are working toward the same goals, and what you said about wasted time applies here, too. Afterwards, we both went to the Headmaster, so that we could frame a reply with as much background as we could. That is why all three of us are here today.

"To cover your points in order: first, I will accept your apologies for your own actions, as they appear to be far more sincere than I ever expected from you. You knew you were wrong, you only told affected persons for what appears to have been a valid reason, and you have promised not to repeat your actions. If you will hold to those promises, nothing more need be between us on that matter. In the matter of apologizing on behalf of your father and Godfather, that is a little more difficult, but since both are now gone and unable to make amends themselves, I will accept that as an end to it. As you have said, we cannot afford to waste more time; I have...decided...that continuing this feud with the dead is a pointless waste of time and energy. You understand who was wrong, and have learned all that you can from it; I will accept this as ended." The Potions Master's voice had a couple of hesitations as he spoke; this was obviously difficult. "On the same topic, on the related topic of the Life-Debt, and per your wish that we could work together: as I said, Remus and I have called a truce for the duration. I do not consider him at fault for something over which he had no control in the incident incurring the Life-Debt, and I have accepted his apology for the incident recorded in the Pensieve. You are generous to count those incidents you cited in your letter as suitable repayment for the Life-Debt." His voice then took on more intensity. "Do you realize, however, that the fact _of_ the Life-Debt makes you somewhat immune to my betraying you to my Master? It is, in and of itself, a binding Wizard's Contract; if I were to hand you over to Riddle for him to kill you, as he no doubt may wish someday for me to do, the consequences would be severe."

Harry thought that one over for a few minutes. "It seems that there are three Life-Debts in this mess: yours to James Potter and thus to me; Pettigrew's to me; and Riddle's to Pettigrew—whether he has acknowledged it or not; that revival should count as such." He thought some more, then looked up at Snape. "Do you _need_ the Life-Debt to enforce your oath to the Order, or is it more of a hazard for you to have it if Riddle ever finds out?"

Snape hid his reaction; this was the second time that Potter had deeply surprised him with unusual intelligence, framed in an equally unusual directness. "The Dark Lord will not accept it as an excuse for failure to carry out orders, should he ask it of me," he replied slowly. "To him, my life is his and his only, to use or dispose of as he pleases; he recognizes no other binding or oath. Also, there is a fourth Life-Debt in this matter: mine to Professor Dumbledore, in the matter of the night I changed sides. That is in part the foundation of my Phoenix Oath; a second one is not needed. Therefore, I will accept your offer as an even settlement: we are neither of us indebted." He turned to Dumbledore. "Albus, in this case I think a formal release is called for, and Harry is of sufficient age and maturity to act on his own behalf: will you witness us?"

"I will," Dumbledore replied easily. "Remus, you should witness, too. Severus, your wand; hold it out in the formal manner. Harry, hold out your wand, touch his, and say, 'I, Harry Potter, son of James Potter, say to you, Severus Snape: Your debt to my house is fulfilled--you are now free. From today, no obligation in these matters binds us to the past.' "

Harry got out his wand, and the two touched wand tips. Harry recited the release, and then Snape did the same in reverse (except he said "myself" instead of "my house", as he was speaking on his own behalf only). Both wands glowed briefly. Dumbledore and Lupin touched theirs to the join of the other two, and said, "I witness this release of debt between two Wizards of honor: all obligations in these matters are ended, and they may walk as equals." All four wands glowed, more brightly this time, then faded. But before they were separated, Fawkes trilled a song, and flew up onto Dumbledore's shoulder. He touched his beak to the apex of the four wands, and a ribbon of flame trailed down each wand; this also flared and faded. All four Wizards were stunned by this, then eased and relaxed by the Phoenix song.

It was Dumbledore who broke the silence, and his voice had a note of wonder. "Well, I would say I have not seen many Phoenix witnessings, and none except Order oaths in the last half-century. I believe, gentlemen, that Fawkes agrees with all of us that it is time to put aside the excess baggage of the past and work together to achieve a future." The four Wizards put away their wands, and tacitly decided it was time for another tea-and-biscuit break. Dumbledore conjured another plate, this time of sandwiches, for it was already past lunchtime.

After enough of the food and drink was consumed, Snape returned to the letters. "The next matter you have mentioned in both our letters is the Dark Lord's revival ritual. What exactly is it that requires a live Peter Pettigrew for your use?"

Harry thought a few moments, gathering his ideas. "First, do all of you know exactly what happened and how? I know I told you and Sirius, Headmaster, and I did describe it somewhat in the _Quibbler_ interview with Rita Skeeter, but I don't know who else knows all the details, or how much I may have left out that was important. That is why I offered you a Pensieve memory; that way, you could see all the details I may have missed. I was in shock and pain from my injured leg, and had just seen Cedric killed, so I didn't try to remember every detail."

Lupin answered, "I know the general sequence of events, but not all the details. Are you sure you want to share such a painful memory, in such an intimate manner?"

Harry closed his eyes. "I think I have to, so that you who are more expert than I am in...such things...may see if there is a detail I missed." He forcibly calmed himself; then he said, "Perhaps also, if I can share it, then I can get it out of my nightmares that haven't truly stopped since that night. I can't do this with my friends, but you are all experienced Wizards who have probably seen many things more horrible than this." He looked into the distance for a moment. "I do wish I could play this on a projector of some kind, for Hufflepuff House; maybe that would put paid to the worst lies told about what happened to Cedric. They weren't there; I was."

Dumbledore hung his head. "I had not thought of the aspect of nightmare relief, or I would have done this for you long ago. Add that to the list of mistakes I've made with and for you. I am sorry." He picked up and opened a carry case he had brought with him, and drew out his Pensieve. "Harry, are you certain you wish to do so today? We can wait, and do more research first."

Harry opened his eyes, and met the kind blue ones. "No, let's do it now, while we are all here and in private, and while I still have the nerve; then I can explain better what I think I want, and why." He looked first at Lupin, then at Snape. "Are you willing to share? This will _not_ be pretty, but I _need_ you to understand."

Both men nodded. "Harry, if it will help you at all, I will do so gladly," Lupin said gently. "Besides, have you considered that this is firsthand evidence of the Dark Lord's return and that Peter is alive?"

"I know. But somehow I don't think Fudge would have believed it anyway."

Snape gave a characteristic snort. "Fudge is an idiot, and a blind one at that. If he would not believe me when I showed him my Mark, he certainly would not believe your memory. I will share what you have offered me. Do you wish to be there as well?"

"I have to be, so that you get the time sense," Harry replied.

"All right, Harry," said Dumbledore, "you know what you have to do. Think of the memory as strongly as you can, and in as much detail as you can, and then touch your wand-tip to your temple. I will help you pull it free and place it in the Pensieve."

Harry did so, and in a few minutes the bowl was filled with a shining silver cloud. "Now, together." The four wizards went together into the memory, seeing what Harry had seen a year before: from the agreement between him and Cedric to take the Tri-Wizard Cup together, to his return with Cedric's body.

When they returned, all were stunned silent for a time. It was Lupin who broke the silence. "Oh, Harry, _now_ I understand why you wish we'd murdered Peter that night!" He stood up, went over to the chair, and hugged Harry tightly. "I didn't think he had the power or the skill for something like this, not after living as a rat for twelve years!" Harry hugged back, taking some comfort from his father's old friend.

It was Snape who spoke next, in a slightly shaky voice. "Potter—Harry, I take back most of everything I have ever said in your detraction. Very few _adults_ could have survived that--and you were fourteen, and injured as well! Yes, the _Priori Incantatem_ was an amazing piece of luck—but you were able to make use of the luck, to do all that you could with it _and_ get back alive, _and_ with Diggory's body, too. What you witnessed was more than ordinary Dark Magic; I know Pettigrew, and he couldn't have done that on his own. That is Blood Magic and Necromancy on a high level. The Dark Lord found or wrote that ritual, I am certain, taught it to Pettigrew and gave him his own wand to use." He sank back on the couch and buried his face in his hands.

"I agree with Severus," Dumbledore said quietly. There were tears in the old man's eyes. "You told us about it that night, but seeing it is far worse. And for my part, this proves that there is _no way_ you are culpable for poor Cedric; you were both caught in the same trap." He went around the table, knelt, and embraced both Lupin and Harry. "How I wish I could have spared you that!" The three held each other tightly another moment, then let go, and went back to their respective seats. The silence stretched out for a few moments; then Snape broke it again.

"I am sorry, but I must ask you again—what is this idea you have to undo this, that requires a living Pettigrew?"

"Well, for my idea he doesn't need to be alive; that's more to clear Sirius's name and estate, to ensure the Black House for the Order, and to get intelligence out of him. What I want is that silver hand, and to keep it well away from Remus. I don't know what he can do with it, and I don't want to find out the hard way." He was on slightly firmer ground here; he had worked out some details. "See, there was 'blood of the enemy'—that was me, and there ought to be a way that I can reclaim it, at least in symbol. 'Flesh of the servant'—well, he got Pettigrew's hand, I'd have the silver one, so if I could force some kind of a magical trade back...that only leaves 'bone of the father'. His father was mortal, a Muggle, not even a Wizard; mortals can die or be killed!"

"I can answer part of that," offered Snape. "He can do some wandless magic with it, as if it were a wand; it is his wand hand that he sacrificed, and he can use it to amplify his wand spells. It is also far stronger and less vulnerable than a normal hand." He scowled a little. "He is the Dark Lord's abject and cringing servant, and is somewhat despised by most of the Death Eaters for not being as powerful. Yet, now and then I see flashes in his eyes; sometimes I think he might get a spine long enough to give you some payment on the debt he owes you. This is going to be a long-term project, to get him captured in a way that does not compromise me." He looked at Harry with somewhat more respect. "I have no idea as to whether we can make your idea work, but it is the best and most unusual I have heard so far. Tell me, what inspired it? I know you don't spend time with Dark Arts texts."

Harry paused a moment to recollect his musings of earlier in the week. "Well, I was wondering: just what _is_ Voldemort, anyway? I mean, other than something that _used_ to be a human Wizard named Tom Riddle. _Is_ he still a man, to be treated as one, or a thing, a construct? Or a part-human, like Remus is, or a non-human intelligent type, like a Goblin or a House Elf? He surely isn't all human any more, with the serpent scales and features; he did use serpent venom as part of his nutrients."

"One could argue for him being a revenant, such as are made Vampires," Dumbledore suggested. "That is one idea, anyway. Why did you wonder that?"

"It was the whole idea that I should have to kill him in the first place. Is it murder, assuming that it isn't in combat, or is it—I don't know—finishing off a death in self-defense that should have occurred fourteen years ago? And if I manage to kill him in other than war—say I surprise him somehow and kill him in cold blood--will I be prosecuted? Has he the rights of a Wizard?"

It was Snape who shook his head. "Harry, I have no idea under what circumstances you will have that encounter. But I can assure you that he will _not_ go without a fight. You have seen him duel; you know that his greatest wish is immortality. He does not hesitate to kill, either; you have also seen that. It will _not_ be in cold blood, and I would be very surprised if you are _not_ acting in defense of yourself or others. As to _what_ he is, I can only suggest using what would work on any other mortal; he is not immortal yet, but I will warn you that he is very strong, skilled and powerful." His dark eyes grew colder, and his voice harsh. "And if _anyone_ dares prosecute you or anyone else who has a hand in his death—let them look to themselves, for there will be the biggest scandal ever to hit the Wizarding World! If I live through this, I promise that it will be so!"

Harry could not help it any more; the entire discussion had been weird, but seeing such passion in Snape, normally a very private man, for a subject he normally loathed--speaking out in public and creating scandal--he stared at Snape. "Who are you, and what have you done to Professor Snape?"

The Potions Master tilted his head a little, and eyed Harry with a little amusement. "Why, do you suddenly not believe my identity?" His voice lowered a little, to a small-room version of his usual smooth classroom lecture voice. "You have been given more than adequate proof that all three of us are genuine. You have been interacting with me for the better part of three hours as if I were. What is different? And how could I have possibly been changed or compromised in the presence of Professor Dumbledore?" He turned to his mentor and employer, who was sitting there quietly with a little smile and a brighter-than-usual twinkle in his eyes.

It was Lupin who answered. "Severus, remember you said that in his letter Harry showed you a side of him you didn't know existed, and it disturbed you? Well, you've just done the same back to him. You've shown him--and us--more of the human being under your 'Evil Slytherin Death Eater' mask than he's seen clearly in the whole five years you've known each other. He was seeing through it without knowing it, hence the things he said to you and Albus in your letters. Now, your mask is off, and he's seeing it full force--what you might have been if things had gone differently--and _he's_ disturbed." The werewolf grinned. "Personally, I think using public scandal is a very Slytherin thing to do; it's just a bit more openly expressed than usual."

That drew a raised eyebrow from the other man. "Indeed? I, a human being? I have it on very good authority that I am any of several different creatures, mainly vampiric, and all of them Dark." A sardonic smile accompanied this comment, and the dark eyes seemed to hold just a trace of humor. If anything, that was unnerving Harry even more. He had expected to deal with the usual Snape: biting of wit, highly intelligent, and capable of great courage--but harsh, cruel and bitter as his life had made him. He didn't know how to respond to this.

Dumbledore took advantage of the gap in conversation. "Truly, Harry, I cannot see how you could possibly be prosecuted for the death of Tom Riddle; in the oldest Wizarding traditions, you would be well within your rights to call him out in Wizard's Duel, for murdering your parents at least. I hope you do not; you are not yet prepared for such a thing. And that brings me to the last topic we wished to discuss: your training." His eyes dimmed a little, and his voice intensified. "Harry, we will give you every bit of knowledge and training at our disposal to help you fulfill your destiny favorably. Reading your letters indicates an urgency--and not _just_ a wish to 'get it over with'." His head bowed a little; his age seemed to hang as a veil upon him, and his long white hair shadowed his face. "I must tell you now that I have been feeling the same urgency: that we must bring this war to a conclusion soon--within the next year or three--or we will be fighting on, in decreasing numbers, for decades. Tom has already turned the Dementors; I know he will free at least some of his Inner Circle soon. We cannot afford to wait much longer than that; we cannot let him gather too many allies, and we must draw him out to a battleground of our choosing rather than his, so that as few as possible innocent lives are risked. Once there, we _must_ strike hard and finally, and make an end to him. Then, we will have a second problem, which you alluded to without realizing it: the Ministry. There is a growing faction there, sitting back and gathering power and influence while waiting for matters to conclude between Riddle and the Order. Once there is a clear winner, then they will attempt to suborn or preempt the winner, all in the name of power. These are the Umbridges and the Fudges of the world, although Cornelius is amenable to reason...sometimes...if his facts are undeniable. We must make a clear victory and use the power to put honest people in charge of the Ministry, so that we are not trading one tyrant for another."

Harry was dismayed. "I know that _he_ has supporters in the Ministry, too. How are we going to manage that?"

Dumbledore straightened up. "That is my problem; I am tasked with the overall picture. Yours is one _specific_ task, without which completion we are possibly doomed to a long and protracted war with Tom, and then maybe a civil war, too. As I said, we will give you whatever you need. I will speak to Kingsley this coming week; he can test you to evaluate your current level, then you may begin serious training with either himself or Alastor Moody. Later, depending on your progress, and if we have time, I will start giving you personal training. I will not be the first to do so, however; before I deal with training a student, I must first re-enter training myself. In my current profession, and at my age, it is too easy to let one's physical fitness go; I cannot afford to do so any more. All of us, myself included, will need to be at our peak, not only physically, but magically." He gave Harry a smile, which eased some of the worry the boy was feeling. "I still have some good years of health left; we Wizards can live to two centuries easily. However, I may _appear_ this year to be slowly declining. This will be for public consumption; in the meantime, I will be preparing a bit of a surprise. In the meantime, to give you the cover you will need, you will continue your studies at Hogwarts, and if you are doing extra-credit work in Defense or Charms, well, all of that will look quite good on your record when you apply to the Auror's Academy." His eyes lit up again, "Or, if we do well in the battle, and win the peace as well, perhaps the need for you to be an Auror may be delayed; you could still play Quidditch for England. I know Professor McGonagall would greatly enjoy that."

Harry allowed himself a smile at that. "She would."

"Indeed. Also as part of your cover of being a more-or-less normal student, I suggest you keep up your Defense group. While you will have not one, but two competent professors this year; extra practice is not a bad idea. This will also teach your core group more about leadership and group actions."

"I'd like that," Harry nodded. "No—I'll _need_ that. Riddle may be my problem, and I think I'll be able to take him someday if the time is right; but I can't see me _ever_ getting so powerful as to take him on _and_ a cadre of his Inner Circle, too. Whether I want it that way or not, I _have_ to rely on other people to deal with the rest of the enemy, whether it's Aurors, Hit Wizards, Order, or the DA." Suddenly, his eyes smarted with unshed tears. "I never thanked you for saving us at the Ministry; I was too upset about—about the life I couldn't save, to be properly grateful, as I should, to you and the Order for saving the rest of us."

"You are not the only one, Harry," Dumbledore replied gently. "You six fought an excellent battle, considering the foes that you faced, and the hazards you encountered that night; we are more than happy to have safely retrieved you. In any case, despite the reasons you were there, despite your pain, and despite our loss—one good thing has come out of it: Tom was drawn out where everyone could see him, and his return cannot be denied any more.

"And Harry, remember my other mandate: the safety and security of Hogwarts. I think you and your cohorts will be the seed of what we need to help keep it safe, besides the wards and charms." The old man smiled gently at Harry; on his perch, Fawkes sang quietly.

Harry's heart was full; he was actually not only being taken seriously—and by some of the last people he could imagine—but he was getting almost everything he asked for, or a reasonable answer at minimum. His heart went cold at the stray thought that forced itself in. _They're desperate_, he thought to himself. _They need me, and will do whatever they must to help me. Now, I have to put up or shut up, and carry my part. I will do this; I have to._


	5. Harry, Dursleys & Assorted Muggles

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and her publishers, not to me. I'm not making money off this.

Spoilers: All five HP novels.

PRELUDE—PLOTS AND COMPLICATIONS

IX: Harry, the Dursleys, and various other Muggles

Harry's warm feeling did not last long; the heavy pounding of feet on the stairs and a loud banging on the door rudely interrupted it.

"Boy! Get down here this minute! You have some explaining to do!!" yelled Vernon Dursley through the closed door.

Harry winced, but stood up and looked at Dumbledore, who took off the Silencing Charm. "Be there in a moment, Uncle Vernon," he replied.

"_Now_, I said!" The door burst open, and Vernon started in with the intention of grabbing Harry. He did not get that far; Remus Lupin was in front of Harry with his wand out faster than could be expected, considering he had been on the far side of the small table. Snape was also up with his wand out, but silently faded back into a corner behind the door; Vernon didn't even notice him. Dumbledore remained seated.

"Is there a problem, Dursley?" Lupin inquired mildly.

"A _problem!!_ Yes, there's a problem, all right—the _police_ are here, and they want to talk to the _boy!_ Seems someone is accusing my Dudley of things he couldn't possibly have done, and they are _here_! IN MY HOUSE!!" He suddenly realized that he was facing an adult Wizard with a wand in his hand, and there was another one sitting down behind the first. He was so focused on Lupin, that he never even noticed the Transfigured furniture, nor Fawkes. "P-put that away—I'm not after you or your kind."

"I'm just making certain that you mean _Harry_ no harm," Lupin continued, still mildly. "If all that is wanted is for him to talk to people, then there will be no problems. They don't even have to know we're here, but we'll be here if needed." He turned to Harry. "Are you all right with this?"

Harry could imagine quite a lot that the police might want to talk to Dudley about; but since he never went out himself, he had no idea what they could want with _him_. "Fine. I don't know what they want, but I'll talk to them." To Vernon, he said, "You don't _have_ to drag me, you know; I'm coming."

Vernon huffed a little, and turned around to go out. Harry looked at him, then on impulse, drew out his wand and handed it to Remus, who took it with a raised eyebrow.

"I'd rather not have that on me, or I might get tempted. I've got you for backup, anyway, if there is real trouble." With that, Harry followed his uncle out the door and downstairs. Remus closed the door.

"A moment, Remus." This was from the Headmaster, who now had out his own wand. _"Nos Visibilium. Nos Audibilium." _The wall and part of the floor appeared to vanish, and a view of the downstairs replaced it. All three wizards could clearly see and hear all the people below. Snape winced.

"You were right, Remus. She is just as bad as Miranda was, and about half as bright. Maybe." He looked down at the view for a few seconds more. "And she's _nothing_ whatever like Lily."

"Miranda?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Bulstrode, year above us, his House," supplied Lupin. "I was using her to give Severus an idea of Petunia, in voice at least."

"A fair enough one, if I recall. Now, Severus, I want you to Disillusion and slip down there quietly—I want Harry to have close support, and you're the one Mr. Dursley didn't notice. Remus, you and I will watch from here."

"What, you're not going down too?" asked Lupin.

"No. We will be available if needed, but this is Harry's problem to deal with at the moment. If we need to go down, we can appear as Muggles, and I would really prefer that Severus not be seen at all. In the wrong hands, the idea that _he_ was ever _here_—and didn't tell someone—could be fatal to him. I prefer that using Obliviation be a last resort." The Headmaster smiled, and conjured up a bowl of popcorn. "Now, we watch the show." He took a handful and began to nibble on it.

"Besides," Snape added, with one of his trademark smirks, "Potter has said that he wants to be a Auror. Let us see if he has the ability to think on his feet, which is necessary in that profession, and how well he hides us from the Muggles. Aurors do have to work with Muggle police, and this will be a nice surprise field test." With that, he tapped his head with his wand and cast the Disillusionment Charm on himself; then silently slipped down the stairs to the living room, finding a convenient corner behind an armchair to see and hear from but not be noticed. He added a silent Notice-Me-Not Charm, leaned against the nearest wall, and waited, wincing slightly at the too many loud voices in a too-small space.

And there were quite a few voices, all talking at once: all three Dursleys; two uniformed constables, one of them hovering over Dudley, who was sitting on the other armchair and looking miserable; a plain-clothes officer; several adults who appeared to be neighbors of the Dursleys (although Mrs. Figg was not there) and two or three other teens. Finally, the plainclothesman stood up, and shouted, "Quiet!! The lot of you!! NOW!!" The other voices fell silent, and he turned to Vernon.

"_This_ is the other boy who lives here?"

"Yes," Vernon replied.

The officer turned to Harry. "Who are you, and why are you here?"

Harry decided answering calmly and truthfully was a good start. "My name is Harry Potter, Sir, and I live here. You summoned me down here; who are you?"

"I am Carleton Markham, Detective-Constable for the village of Little Whinging. How old are you?"

"Fifteen, Sir; I will be sixteen at the end of July."

One of the constables whispered, "Fifteen? He looks more like he's twelve or thirteen!" No one responded to that, but several pairs of eyes—including the invisible Snape's—looked from one teen to the other.

"Why do you live here?" continued Markham.

"I am an orphan, Sir; my parents were killed when I was fifteen months old. Petunia Dursley is my mother's sister, and these, to the best of my knowledge, are my only living relatives."

"Where do you go to school?"

Harry didn't want to answer that one; to do so would make liars out of his aunt and uncle in front of their neighbors. He was saved by one of the neighbors. "He attends St. Brutus' Institute! Look at him, he's an obvious criminal!"

Markham turned to her. "Mrs. Polkiss, that may be what you have been told, for whatever reason. But I am, among other things, a probation officer for a number of the St. Brutus inmates, and visit there regularly. There is not only no one who matches his description there, but no one by the name of Potter, Harry or otherwise." He turned back to Harry. "Would you care to explain, Mr. Potter?"

Harry thought fast. _Truth or lie, I'm done for. Let's start out with part of the truth._ "I attend a very exclusive private boarding school in Scotland, Sir." _Politeness couldn't hurt, either._

"Where in Scotland, and what school?"

"I prefer not to say in public, Sir."

"When is your school term?"

"First of September to the third Friday of June, Sir."

"And did you attend your school this year?"

"Yes, Sir." Harry decided this was getting a bit much. "May I ask what is going on, please?"

"You may. Mr. Dudley Dursley has been caught driving too fast in his father's car with not only several bottles of beer, but also three marijuana cigarettes; he refuses to tell where he obtained them, and claims they are not his. Several of his friends have also been caught with him; they insist that their source for both is one Harry Potter, whom they claim also regularly vandalizes the area and assaults children. Now, you are the only Harry Potter we have found, and frankly, I think there is more going on than it appears. Would you care to explain yourself?"

_Bloody hell!_ "Sir, I do not know who is _currently_ bullying children or vandalizing public or private property; nor do I know where marijuana is obtained. But I totally deny that I had anything to do with any of it whatsoever. And, if it happened while I was in school, then I could not have possibly done it." He took a deep breath, and continued. "If someone is claiming that a 'Harry Potter' is committing these acts, then all I can say is that either there are two of us of that name, or I am a victim of someone misusing and dishonoring my good name."

Dennis' mother burst out with, "_What_ good name? Look at that scruff! No one like that—"

Markham interrupted the blustering woman. "Mrs. Hayward, be _silent_; I did not ask for commentary._ I_ will ask the questions." He pounced on one of Harry's words. "You said 'currently'. Do you have knowledge of past violations, and if you did, why did you not speak to the Law?"

Harry sighed. No matter what he said, he would be in some kind of serious trouble; if the law didn't string him up, his relatives would. And he would bet his last Knut that the three Wizards upstairs were listening to every word. _Then again_, he reminded himself firmly, _it could be worse_. _If I can face down the full Wizengamot or the Dark Lord, I can face one Muggle policeman; at least he isn't out to kill me. I can look at him, and ignore the neighbors. And I think this will explain my real home life to the Professors better than I ever could want to_. "In the past, it was often Dudley, Piers Polkiss, and their friends Malcolm, Gordon and Dennis; you can ask Mark Evans, whose mother I see here, who the real neighborhood bullies are. As to why I never spoke up, I have been their victim many times as well myself; but there was no way for me to prove it, and there is no one here who will speak for me against anyone else." He inhaled slowly again, and continued. "But as to the marijuana—this is the first time I've heard about this."

"Indeed. Well, all of this should be solved shortly. P.C. Adams, if you would?" He went over to one of the constables and whispered to him; the constable then went outside. Markham turned back to Harry. Something was off about this boy: not bad, necessarily, but off. And the Dursleys were hiding something; that much he could tell.

"You said that you are fifteen, almost sixteen, correct?"

"Yes, Sir; I'm about a month younger than Dudley."

"And you have lived here in this house from the age of 15 months, until you went to boarding school, presumably at age eleven?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And you still live here, during holidays?"

"Summer holidays; winter and spring hols I usually spend at school or with friends."

"So you went to primary school here, along with your cousin?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Is there anyone else in the neighborhood who can verify that your name is indeed Harry Potter, and that you do indeed live here and have done so, as you say?"

That one was easy. "Other than all the people here? Yes, Sir, Mrs. Arabella Figg, two streets over on Wisteria Walk. She's been my minder since I was little."

Markham turned to the other constable. "Ring up this Mrs. Figg and have her brought here."

Mrs. Polkiss could no longer keep silent. "How can you stand there, a man of the Law, and listen to the lies from this---this hooligan about my Piers? If he and this boy used to fight, then there's a motive for this boy to get him into trouble!"

Markham was unmoved. "Mrs. Polkiss, as I told you and the others before: I will ask the questions; and if I think there is reason to take in anyone, _I _will decide whom, and upon what terms."

Mrs. Polkiss subsided with a glare at Harry. Markham continued. "Why are you going to an exclusive boarding school in Scotland, when your cousin does not?"

_Uh-oh, now it gets dicey._ "It was the one both my parents went to; they apparently signed me up when I was born, and prepaid the tuition and books for me, should I qualify. As for Dudley, his parents opted to send him to Smeltings; I understand that's my Uncle's old school."

"I see. Well—" The detective was interrupted by the arrival of the first constable, who brought in a trembling boy of about nine.

"Please, Sir, I didn't see anything, and I don't know anything!" the boy whimpered.

Markham turned and addressed the boy. "Mr. Donald Polkiss, correct? Younger brother of Piers Polkiss?"

"Yessir."

Markham turned and pointed to Harry. "Do you know this boy?"

"Yessir. That's Big D's—uh, Dudley's freak cousin Potter."

"Freak cousin?"

The boy was on a bit firmer ground here. All he had to do was agree with everything his big brother said, and he'd be safe. "Uh-huh, I mean Yessir. Everyone knows he's a freak--he dresses funny and he used to always let himself get pushed around and Dudley says he's a freak so no one can be with him 'cause he's weird." The boy ran out of air and stopped.

"And what do you know for a _fact_?" Markham pressed.

"Well, not much else, Sir; he's not really around much any more since he got sent to St. Brutus."

"St. Brutus, indeed. How do you know that?"

"Mum told me, didn't you, Mum?"

"I certainly did; Vernon and Petunia gave me fair warning about this boy. They took him in out of ordinary charity when his parents were killed in a car accident, no doubt driving drunk. If you believe his nonsense about a private boarding school, you aren't doing right by the citizens!" Mrs. Polkiss scowled at Harry, who was starting to slowly simmer: one of his temper triggers was hearing his parents slandered. He forcibly held his peace, though; now was not the time for an outburst.

In the corner, and upstairs, the listening Wizards were also simmering a little: they knew what lies those were, and how they would affect Harry. But they all three bided their time until they should be needed; Harry was doing well, so far.

Markham was about to ask another question when the door opened and the other constable came in with Mrs. Figg. "This is Mrs. Figg from Wisteria Walk."

"Please sit down, Madam." She did so, then looked at Harry.  
  
"What is going on here?" she demanded of no one in particular.

"You are Mrs. Figg, resident on Wisteria Walk?"

"I am, and I want to know what all these people are doing here!"

"Just one simple question: is this boy Harry Potter, and does he live here?" He pointed at Harry.

"Yes, it is Harry Potter; I've known him since he was a toddler! And if you're here for him you have the wrong person; he's a good boy, very helpful, and my cats love him. And he defends the children against big bullies like Dudley and Piers and Gordon!"

"Actually, Mrs. Figg, the charges to be made are somewhat more serious, but thank you for your statement in his favor," Markham answered her gently. Eccentric little old ladies were nothing new to him. "You may go if you wish."

"I will not—he's a good boy and I will not have him slandered!" she retorted.

"Very well, then. If you wish to stay, then please sit down, and refrain from further comments until I ask for them." She did so.

One of the constables, who had made a circuit of the living room, said quietly to Markham, "Sir, something's off here. If that boy lives here, too, then why aren't there any snaps of him as well as their son?"

Meanwhile, Vernon was getting more and more nervous. He knew that the—freaks—upstairs would not wait forever for Harry, and he feared their interference. That they hadn't already come down to see what was going on with the boy didn't feel right. He could only hope that _they_ wouldn't make worse what was already one of the worst Sundays of his life. As usual when nervous and frustrated, he went on the offensive.

"All right, Detective-Constable, you've determined that Potter is who we say he is. Now, can you tell me when you are going to clear everyone out of here and let Dudley alone?"

"As soon as one of my other officers gets here, we can clear up a few things." Markham turned toward the door. "Ah—there he is now." A third constable came in, towing another boy—a stranger a little older than Dudley and Harry. Behind him came a fourth, bringing in Dudley's friends Malcolm and Gordon; Dennis and Piers were already present.

"All right, now, Carmichael, you have agreed to tell the truth in exchange for leniency. Which one of these boys, if any, is the one you know as Harry Potter?"

Carmichael looked around the room and pointed at Dennis Hayward. "He is, Officer."

Pandemonium broke out: everyone started yelling, accusing and finger-pointing at once, until Markham yelled "SILENCE ALL!!" at the top of his rather large voice. All fell silent, and then he pointed at Dennis' mother. "You first."

Mrs. Hayward shrieked, "That's a lie!! You're in it with him!!"

"Noted," Markham replied. He pointed at Harry. "You, next."

Harry managed to keep his temper and reply calmly. "He's Dennis Hayward, and _I_ am Harry Potter."

"How do you know him?"

"He's a friend of Dudley's; has been for years."

Markham turned to Carmichael. "And did any one of these boys buy, sell or furnish marijuana to or from you or anyone else?"

"Yes—the one who I was _told_ was Harry Potter is the dealer. They dumped it in Dursley's car; he wouldn't buy, so this way only one of them would fall." Dudley looked horrified, then devastated at his friends' perfidy.

"And who is that boy?" Markham pointed to Harry.

"Dursley's cousin; he doesn't say much about him and I don't know his name, but the others think he's some kind of a dangerous lunatic."

In the corner, Snape's fingers lightly touched the wand in its sleeve holster. He longed to hex the entire lot of them with the Body-Bind and the Silencing Charm, and use Veritaserum on everyone; that many loud voices at close range were giving him yet another headache. _Merlin, these supposedly adult Muggles were worse than First-Years--and Gryffindor First-Years, at that!_ He looked over at Harry. _Odd; Potter is the only one who _isn't_ shrieking with the rest. How in Merlin's name is he holding his temper? _He didn't know that things were shortly to get worse--_much_ worse.

The front door opened without a knock, and Marjorie Dursley, Vernon's sister, barged in. Seeing the mob scene there, she skidded to a halt and glared at all and sundry. "Vernon, what's going on? What has that boy done _now_?" she demanded.

"They think my Dudders is a _criminal!_" screeched Petunia. "He's been corrupted, and now...now they want to take him away..." She finally broke down and started crying loudly.

"Dudley? Impossible! He's a good boy! That Potter is far more likely." She glared at Harry. "See what _you've_ done to your nice honest family: took you in, they did, gave you the food from their pantry and the clothes off Dudley's back, and _this_ is how you repay them? With a police scandal?? I'll bet you're in it with your criminal Godfather, Sirius Black. Oh, yes, Vernon told me all about _him_..." Markham glared at her and cut her off; he apparently didn't notice Harry clenching his fists tightly as he fought not to lose it altogether. _Not Sirius,_ Harry screamed inside. _Not here, not now..._

Snape _did_ notice, and slipped his wand a little out of the sheath. _Of all the things that creature had to mention, it was Black...and how do they know about him, anyway? I'm no Empath, and _I_ can feel the boy trying not to blow up the room! _He mentally debated whether to do a fast Calming Charm on Potter, or wait until they all started up again, Stun the lot, and let Dumbledore clean up the mess. He opted to wait; the Muggle Detective-Constable seemed to have some control over the situation.

"Silence! This is a police investigation! And who might _you_ be, and what's your interest in this?"

"Marjorie Dursley; I'm Vernon's sister and Dudley's aunt." She turned to Dudley. "Don't you say anything, Dudley dear; I'll get you a good barrister as soon as I can."

"Oh, you will, will you? You're family, then? Sit down with the rest. I think I have enough to start with." Some of the parents began to protest, but he silenced them with a glare. Marge Dursley sat down.

_Not a bad glare,_ thought Harry, _although Snape is much better at it. Why did Aunt Marge have to show up _now_ of all times? _He resolutely forced down his reaction to her mentioning his Godfather; he could _not_ afford a breakdown now, when his Professors were finally taking him seriously—and likely listening to everything going on.

When the room was silent again, Markham continued. "Now, there _is_ one person I haven't heard from." He turned to Dudley. "You, Master Dursley: what really happened? And is your cousin involved?"

Dudley didn't answer that one yet. "Can I get protection?"

"From whom?"

"Anyone I talk about. I—I want to tell the truth, but I'm scared."

"If you tell the truth, you should not be scared. Now—start talking: either here, or at the station house. Pick one. I want to clear up some of this before I waste Crown and County funds prosecuting the wrong people."

Dudley took a deep breath, glanced at Harry, and plunged in. "We were just out riding. Piers had some beers, but I didn't know about the...the pot! I'm not into that; I can't afford to use _anything_ while I'm in training. I'm a boxer, and I've got some chances at some titles! And they do drug testing, even on us juniors. They catch you, you're disqualified, and I've worked too hard for it!"

"And your cousin?"

"He had nothing to do with this. He just got back from his school a couple of weeks ago, and he isn't mates with anyone here. In fact, he's hardly been out of his room, let alone the house." Dudley gave Harry a miserable look; Harry managed a look of sympathy back. He knew the pain of shattered illusions.

"So, whose idea was it to use his name as an alias?"

"I don't know, Sir. It wasn't mine."

Detective-Constable Markham looked around the room: angry and upset parents, scared or defiant teens, and one odd-out who seemed about to burst with some internal misery—the Potter boy. However, some things _were_ clear; he began to issue instructions. "Right, I think I see where this is going. Constables, take Masters Polkiss---both of them, I want to talk to the brother--Hayward, Scott, Graham and Dursley down to the station house; set up a hearing before the Magistrate as soon as possible. I know this is Sunday; deal with it. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, Miss Dursley, Mrs. Hayward, Mrs. Polkiss, and any other parents, you may follow them and accompany your sons. Mrs. Figg, and the rest of you, clear out of here and go home. You will be called if needed."

"We can't leave _him_ here alone! What will happen to the house? And our dinner?" demanded Vernon.

Markham sighed. For an industrial executive, Dursley seemed to have all the brains of a lab rat, and a dead one at that; and there was something seriously off about how they were treating Potter. "I said you _may_ follow them. You need not all three go. If you think the Potter boy needs a minder at fifteen, then one of you may stay. If I see fit to leave with him, I will lock the house."

Marge Dursley was not to be stopped. "Aren't you going to haul Potter in?"

"For what? I have seen no evidence that he is involved in this."

"For consorting with known criminals! Don't you know his Godfather is the mass-murderer Sirius Black? He's the one who's likely behind all this! Arrest the boy, and you'll get the man, mark my words." Marge threw a nasty smile at Harry, who froze in pain. "See, he's got the guilty look on him! A few weeks in the lockup—"

Markham interrupted her. "Then, if you please, Miss Dursley, go along to the station, and give your evidence. _I_ will question the boy further here, and see if there is anything substantial to get from him. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, I suggest you do likewise, and eat dinner out tonight. I will see to it that the boy doesn't destroy the house. The rest of you—out of here!! All of you!!" They went—loudly chattering as they went. The involved parties headed to the station house; the non-involved parties couldn't wait to pass around the juiciest gossip Little Whinging had heard in years.


	6. Harry & DC Markham

X. Harry and D.C. Markham

When all the others had left, Markham closed the front door, and turned to Harry. "Now, we can talk as two sensible people, and maybe I can make sense of some things I saw and heard that I don't like and don't understand. You may have Mrs. Figg back here, if you like."

"She's all right; but don't tell Aunt and Uncle that. If you do, they'll never send me back to her again."

"Now, why is that?"

"They don't like me. I was placed with them and they took me because they're my only relatives. Anything I like, they don't want me to have."

"I see. Now, what is this about Sirius Black? Is that man indeed your Godfather?"

Harry winced in pain. _Not now, not here—I can't break now!_ Aloud, he said quietly, "Yes, it's true—or rather, he was. He…died…last month."

"And why do you know this?"

"I saw it." Harry's mind was churning. _How much do I tell this man?_ _And when are the Professors going to rescue me? Mrs. Figg's in the Order; she knew the truth. Do they expect me to think up something myself? Then again, he doesn't even know they're here; only Vernon and Petunia do, and they won't want him to know. I have to cover for them._

"Under what circumstances?"

"He was…he was fighting with someone who wanted to kill me. She killed him." There—now he would have to think fast if he was going to come up with a plausible story; it was obvious that his teachers were letting him handle it. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure how long he could keep from cracking. At least there was only one Muggle to deal with now, not a houseful; anything he accidentally did to the man, his Professors could fix.

"Where and when?"

"I can't talk about where; it's secret. When was this last June 12th."

"Why is it secret?"

"I can't talk about that, either."

"Why is he your Godfather, if he was a mass murderer?"

Harry took a deep breath. _All right, time to put my Divination-homework skills to use…but as much of the truth as I can, not all of it, and no more lies than I must. Call on my inner Slytherin that the Sorting Hat seems to think I have, and stay calm and polite, above all. He _has_ to believe it. _"Because--because my parents picked him; he and my Dad were best friends. And he wasn't."

"Wasn't your Godfather, or wasn't a mass murderer?"

"He didn't murder anyone. The real killer, who was supposedly a victim, set him up and is still alive, as far as I know." _Not if Lupin or Hagrid get hold of him…or he upsets his Master one too many times…_

"Why all the secrecy? If you know something, why couldn't you give evidence?"

"It's—it's political, and I can't talk about it."

Markham was getting impatient. This wasn't going at all the way he thought it would. _And this boy is just short of cracking; he must have cared about the man. And that sister of Dursley's has all the kind heart of a lead brick; what has she got against the boy? Time for more direct questions, but gently; if he fractures he might blow, and I'm by myself here. _"For what reason can you not talk about this?"

"I told you; it's political. There was a scandal, you see, about the murders; Sirius was arrested and thrown into prison just to show that somebody was caught."

"But surely he had a trial?"

Harry gave a bitter snort that would have done Snape proud. Neither noticed the man, still Disillusioned, who came out of the corner and sank silently into a chair away from the two. "He didn't, as far as I know; he was convicted on dodgy eyewitness testimony and sentenced to life in prison. About two, almost three years ago, he escaped; everyone thought it was to kill me, but he was after the one who set up my parents to be murdered, and had set him up to be blamed."

"Why is that?" Markham was patiently teasing out a really strange story—but it held together so far.

Harry took a deep breath. "All right. I'll tell you some things, but others I have to keep secret, and some things I just don't know. I don't know you, I can't tell if I can trust you, but I'm just going to have to explain some things. See, my mum and dad were involved in one of those…uh, agencies; I don't know which, and I couldn't tell you if I did know. There was a…terrorist running about in the late 1970s, with a whole gang, killing and torturing innocent people."

"Like the IRA, or the Red Army of Liberation?"

"Something like, I guess, but neither of them; they're called the Death Eaters."

"I think I've heard of them. Some kind of cult, into weird stuff? Wear masks, I think?"

"Uh-huh, that's them. Anyway, Mum and Dad, and Sirius, were involved in trying to catch them. They didn't know that one of their other agents, another close friend, was a double agent. He betrayed my parents; the chief of the terrorists murdered them, but didn't get me, because Mum…hid me first; the house partly blew up, I think, because I have this scar." He showed his famous scar to the man. "I guess they hurt him pretty badly first, because he dropped out of sight for years and everyone thought he died. Now he's back. Sirius was…undercover; even the government didn't know he wasn't really a criminal; only the leader of his agency, and a few trusted agents, did." Harry took a deep breath. "Several of us students, most of us with parents in this…agency…got caught in a hostage trap last month; Sirius was with the…agency members who came to rescue us. He died fighting against one of the worst of the Death Eater lieutenants." Harry bowed his head. "It really hurts, because he never got his name cleared, and now he can never take me away from here."

Meanwhile, Dumbledore and Lupin looked at each other. "Albus, how long do we wait before we rescue him?" Lupin asked worriedly. "Harry is close to cracking; all that pain he choked down to write us is trying to come out _now_! At the very least, we are going to have to Obliviate that Muggle."

"Patience, but I think very soon, now," Dumbledore replied. "I think it's almost time for his Professors to come downstairs to find out why he didn't return for his advice meeting."

"And Severus stays hidden?"

"Yes; he must not be seen to anyone outside the Order. The Muggle police know about the Death Eaters, but as a dangerous cult only. Patience, Remus--Harry is actually doing very well; he has told nothing but the truth—properly interpreted, that is, and adhering to the Statute of Secrecy. Now we see if this Markham accepts it."

That gentleman looked around the living room again. _P.C. Craig was right; there are no snaps of this boy, but lots of that other one. This one is obviously wearing the other boy's discards, and they don't even remotely fit; no wonder he never goes out. And there is NO love lost between that Marge woman and Potter._ Aloud, he said, "So—you _were_ involved with this Sirius Black, but that was not in any way related to the case at hand today. Correct?" When Harry nodded, he continued. "In any case, if the man is indeed dead, it's a moot point anyway, and I'm sorry." Markham leaned back and folded his hands. "Mr. Potter, what is your honest opinion of your cousin?"

Harry didn't hesitate; he was happy to get away from himself as a topic. "He's thoroughly spoiled, a vandal and a bully; but I believe him when he said he didn't get into the marijuana. Boxing is the only thing in life he takes at all seriously, and really the only thing he's any good at; he's on a training diet and does regular exercises and drills, so he isn't going to spoil it." Harry shook his head. "I—I can't say I ever liked him; I was one of his first victims, from the time I first lived here. He despises me, and his parents encouraged everything he did. But I felt sorry for him when he realized that his lifelong friends were using him. I've seen that happen often enough that I hate it as much as I hate bullying. You didn't see his face; I did. He was devastated. Now would be the time to show him a last chance. If you can get him away from his friends and his father, who is trying to make him a junior Vernon, he might someday grow up. Be the good cop; he's seen the bad cop, and he just might tell all."

"And the other boys?"

"They're just repeating what they've been told all their lives; you heard their mums. Donald won't go against Piers; his brother protects him from the other bullies. I wouldn't have figured Dennis for dealing, though." Harry's voice hardened. "But using _my_ name… _that _I will _not_ forgive, whichever one of them did it. I can endure the rest, as I have all my life: the bullying, the hate, and having my parents' names dishonored by people who never knew them; they aren't here any more to suffer from it. My relatives despise me enough as it is, just for existing. But I will _not_ have _my_ name slandered for something _I_ didn't do." He took another deep breath, and let it out with a sigh.

"Fair enough," Markham nodded. "Given what I saw and heard, you've convinced me that whatever else is going on, you had nothing to do with_ this _mess. And it would appear that your cousin is picking the wrong friends; his parents have done him no favors in sheltering him from consequences of his actions. In a way, that's as bad as their obvious neglect of you—don't think I didn't notice the difference in clothes."

Harry hung his head. "It's all right; I can handle it for a little longer. Two more years—this one and next—and I'll be out of school and able to manage." _I'm not going to tell him I come of age in one year, by a different law._

Markham leaned forward again. "What I _don't_ understand is this: your parents apparently set you up fairly well to go to a private boarding school, tuition and expenses and such. Why did they leave nothing to your aunt to raise you with?"

"I don't know all of it, but I'd guess it's because they had planned for Sirius to raise me if something happened. He was well off. They had never planned on anything for Aunt Petunia, as she and Mum were estranged, and there wasn't anything left." _I'm not going to mention the vault full of gold; I'll give it to charity before I let the Dursleys have it._ "And, in any case, my Aunt and Uncle didn't even know about my being admitted to my school until I got my first admissions letter. Aunt knew about the school, as Mum went there, but Uncle Vernon didn't."

"And the story about St. Brutus?"

"That was my aunt and uncle's story; they knew how Mum and Dad really died, and didn't want the neighbors to know anything. It's a sort of cover for why I don't go to Stonewall High or Smeltings. Better that the neighbors think me a delinquent, so they don't ask too many questions, than to worry about involvement with the people my parents worked for—or worse, attracting the ones who killed them."

"What is your plan, now?"

"I need to go back upstairs; I was in the middle of course advice counseling. Some of my school professors have been here all day, up in my room; they must be starving by now."

The detective started. There were _more_ people in this house? "Here? Why did none of them come down with you?"

"Uh—this was family business, not school business, and they thought to keep out of it. If you _had_ arrested me, they would have surely come down."

Harry was now getting really tired and hungry, and he was sure his Professors were, too, unless they were conjuring up dinner—in which case, he wanted some. "Please, sir, if you're satisfied, will you excuse me so that I can fix up something, or order carryout, for my Professors? They must be starving. You know where to reach me; I should be here for the next few weeks. If I leave to visit my friends, or after term begins, I can get mail through Mrs. Figg; she has my forwarding address."

Markham nodded. "If, first, you will ask one of your professors to come down and talk to me, just to prove your story, I can leave you be and deal with the rest of that lot." A thought hit him. "How much do they know?"

"About me? Pretty much everything; the school I go to is where my parents went, and a lot of my friends have parents in…their agency."

"Then fetch one down, please, and then maybe we can conclude this before your relatives get home."


	7. Harry, Remus, Albus & Severus

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and her publishers, not to me. I'm not making money off this.

Spoilers: All five HP novels.

PRELUDE--MUSINGS & CONVERSATIONS

XI: Harry, Remus, Albus and Severus

Harry gratefully escaped up the stairs, and went slowly into his room, hoping that his Professors were still there. "Headmaster? I'm sorry for all this; it went on far longer than I had hoped. Can you please come down? The police constable wants to talk to one of you."

Then Harry noticed the charm that had given them full sight and sound. _Oh, no—they not only heard all that, they saw it, too. And where is Snape? _

Dumbledore smiled. "Of course, I will." He Transfigured his robes to a Muggle casual suit, and Glamoured his beard to look short and neat. His long hair was now in a neat braid in back.

"Where is Professor Snape?" Harry asked in a low voice.

"He was downstairs with you, Disillusioned, all that time. We do not want him seen here at all, for his own safety, but we thought you should have closer support in case of real trouble. And, as you saw, we two were watching from here the entire time. You were _never_ alone, not once; and if we had truly been needed, we would have been there in an instant." Dumbledore stood, and embraced Harry, surrounding him with comfort. "Well done, my boy, well done. You said no more than you had to, you came up with a plausible cover story, you held up when we were certain you were going to break down, and you kept your magic under control even around that insufferable woman. That is the Aunt Marge that you blew up, Third Year?"

"Uh-huh," Harry admitted. "I thought I was going to lose it, and I can't! Not now!" He was starting to tremble with emotion, but fought to hold it down. _One more pain, just one, and I'll blow—and I can't, not after all we've accomplished today!_ Tears threatened to leak out.

Dumbledore held him more closely against his chest. "Shh, Harry," he whispered softly. "You've done your part, and far more than any of us guessed that you would have to; let me do mine." He settled Harry down on the chair, and pulled out a small vial. "Drink this; it is Calming Potion. After all that has happened, you deserve at least a temporary respite. I will return shortly."

He started towards the door, which opened on its own. Soft footsteps came into the room, and Snape removed the spell on himself before slumping back down on the couch, rubbing his head. "The things I do for you, Albus..." he muttered. He poured himself more tea, heated it with his wand, and drank it down.

Lupin chuckled. "Oh, come now, Severus, it was just a noisy pack of Muggles, and you didn't even have to threaten them. None of us, not even Harry, were in any real danger; I'd say it was one of the easier things you've had to do lately."

"What is wrong, apart from the obvious fact that we are all starving?" asked Dumbledore kindly.

"_You_ two were up here, safe and sound," growled Snape, as he pulled out another potion vial and downed the contents. "_I_ had to hear all those wretched Muggles scream at each other full-force, and it gave me a raging headache. I swear that Gryffindor First-Years on a sugar high aren't _that_ bad, and those were _adults_! It makes me almost _believe_ in Pureblood Wizard superiority. Malfoy would have a glorious time at Potter's expense if he ever got wind of this!" He waved his hand. "Albus, please go deal with that officer; he doesn't know how close he came to seeing that whole roomful of idiots hexed, and he was the only one in that whole crowd, bar Arabella, with any sense whatever!" Dumbledore went, ending the sight-and-sound charms as he left.

Harry was mortified. "I'm sorry, sir," he told Snape. "I had no idea you were in the room with me. I tried to do the best I could not to involve all of you. But I _had_ to tell them something." He bent his head down, hoping that the Calming Potion would take effect soon. He was not going to endanger the crumbs of respect he had gotten from Snape that day by breaking down. He _would not._

Snape shook his head; the last of his illusions about Harry had crumbled away. When they returned to school or Headquarters, he vowed silently to have another _long_ talk with Lupin and Dumbledore. He turned to face the boy, who was staring down at the floor. "Harry," he said quietly, "how you endured all that, especially that insufferable Marge woman and the insults to Black and your parents, without blowing up the entire house and all of us with it, is beyond me. I'm no Empath, and _I_ could feel the pressure you were under. That you were also able to be polite and civil is even more credit to you. That you _also_ showed amazing lenience to and on behalf of your cousin, who as far as I can tell deserves none whatever, is even more astounding, and very Gryffindor of you. You owe _me_ no apology whatever for the actions of the other people; _we_ should be helping _you_, if we are to be at all serious about what we discussed today. The fault in that matter lies entirely with those boys, for breaking the law and getting caught; their parents for allowing them to run wild; your insufferable gossiping neighbors; and your so-called family, who have shown not one ounce of _proper_ care or attention to their own son, let alone to you." He sighed, and rubbed both temples; the Headache Potion hadn't yet worked. "I'm now starting to understand a few things." He didn't elaborate further.

Harry stared at his shoes; the whole family situation was a major embarrassment to him. "Sir, after facing the Dark Lord and the full Wizengamot, this wasn't much. At least they weren't trying to kill me, and I was the only one under their attention." He looked up at both Lupin and Snape with misery in his eyes. "I had better warn you, Professors: it isn't over yet. When the Dursleys come back, I'm in for a major screaming fit, or worse, from both of them. Maybe you should all go, now; I don't want you to have to see it, I don't want you to be tempted to hurt them, and I would rather...get upset in private. I'm sorry; I thought we were actually making progress. Maybe I'm _not_ ready. If they had said _one more thing _aboutHis words trailed off as he returned to staring at the floor.

Lupin's kind heart broke. He was so proud of Harry, but at the same time, the slow simmer of his own wolf anger was rising higher. This whole wretched mess could not have come at a worse time. The only cub of his odd little pack was just starting to come to terms with all his troubles; now he was in unknowing danger, caused by people who should be taking care of him. He knew Harry was too proud to break down in front of Snape, of whose reluctant respect he had finally earned a little and would not endanger. But if the Dursleys yelled at Harry, he _would_ break. If they did the slightest thing more—and Lupin suspected that there was _much_ more that Harry had never told him—they could be caught in the explosion of a raging Harry—whose immediate reaction would be yet more guilt if he hurt anyone. No, Lupin knew, the three Wizards could _not_ leave Harry alone to deal with his relatives; if they did, there might not be a house left standing at Number Four! More: if they did anything _to_ Harry before the Wizards left, and survived whatever Harry did, they would next face a _very_ angry Dumbledore, to say nothing of what Lupin himself could do; and add into that mix the obvious fact that the always-volatile and very dangerous _Snape_ was also on Harry's side now...they didn't stand a chance.

He went over to where Harry was sitting miserably, knelt down on one knee to bring himself down to the same level, and put both arms around the boy. At the same time, he caught Snape's eye and gave a head gesture to give them room. The other man, for once understanding, Disillusioned himself again and left, closing the door softly behind him.

"It's just us now, Harry," Lupin said softly. "Albus is downstairs and Severus has left the room. Go ahead and cry if you want."

"I—I can't, Moony," Harry muttered. "I'm trying to do what I have to, and I can't afford to break. I have to be strong, and if I break now, I'll never be." He sniffed, but allowed himself to be held by the older man.

"Harry, if you _don't_ let it out now, while I'm here to help you, and to cry with you—don't think I haven't!—you'll explode, and make a real mess: of yourself, and maybe all the rest of us too. You've made all of us _very_ proud of you—yes, even Severus, although he won't say so in so many words_—_and then you dealt with a truly hard situation when you weren't at all ready. Take the time for yourself, now; then we can move on with the rest later." Lupin pulled one arm free, pulled out his own wand, and widened Harry's chair to a settee big enough for both of them; then he got up and sat next to him, pulled the now-unresisting boy back into his arms, and held him snugly, waiting for the storm to break. He sensed that Harry was on the very edge, and only a very little would send him over; if he did, Lupin would likely break down again too. _Lily, Prongs, Padfoot, I'm sorry; I wish you were here. Even Snape would have been a better guardian than the Dursleys turned out to be!_ The first of his own tears fell silently on the messy black hair his cheek rested on.


	8. Albus and DC Markham

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and her publishers, not to me. I'm not making money off this.

Spoilers: All five HP novels.

PRELUDE--MUSINGS & CONVERSATIONS

XII: Albus and D.C. Markham

Meanwhile, downstairs, Dumbledore approached the police officer. "You wished to see me?" he inquired, entering the living room.

"Yes. I'm Detective-Constable Carleton Markham, Little Whinging Constabulary. You are?" the other man returned.

"Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Harry's school," Dumbledore replied. The two men shook hands and sat down. Neither of them heard Snape's silent ghosting footsteps; he had decided that if he was going to leave Lupin and Potter in privacy, he might as well back up Dumbledore. Now that most of the Muggles were gone, and he was away from the about-to-explode Potter, the Headache Potion was finally taking effect.

"First, I think it would be fair to say that Mr. Potter conducted himself very well today. He seemed to be the only one in that entire mob who was being halfway honest with me." The detective met Dumbledore's eyes. "Mind you, now, I only said _halfway_; I know good and well he didn't tell me everything about his parents; he wouldn't tell me the name of his school, and I noticed you didn't either; and I find his story about his parents being in a secret anti-terrorist agency to be more than a bit odd. But, that said, _none_ of that part has anything to do with why I was here in the first place, which was to deal with the Dursley boy, and find out if it was indeed Potter who was the dealer in marijuana. Frankly, I don't think he was; the time frame is too far off; he was not in contact with anyone else around here, it appears, bar the Figg woman; and he was far more concerned about having his name slandered by a lie than anything else. I see no reason to have us deal further with him on _this_ case; the most I might need is a statement." He dropped his eyes as he considered his next words. "As to the matter of this Sirius Black: if the man is truly dead, it would be a waste of my time and County funds to drag up something that is probably more the province of Scotland Yard, or maybe MI-5; anyway, I'm going to let it lie, despite that vicious Miss Dursley. A dead man is not a public danger, and that is my primary concern."

"That story about St. Brutus? What is that, anyway?" Dumbledore was indeed curious.

"Right, I forgot you're not a local. St. Brutus' Secure Center for Incorrigibly Criminal Boys is just that--a facility to educate underage criminal delinquents. Unless Mr. Potter has a lengthy juvenile criminal record, and no one of that name appears in our records, he would never have been sent there. As I told the others, I am a probation officer for some of the boys who do go there, and there has never _been_ a Harry Potter of any description there for at least the last ten years. Nor have I ever seen anyone there matching his description—not with those glasses, green eyes and scar." His eyes met Dumbledore's again, and his voice intensified. "But I think Potter is going to have some serious problems with his _relatives_ when they get home from the station house. It's pretty obvious who was the spoiled Golden Boy favorite around here, and it certainly wasn't Potter. I think he's going to be at least yelled at and verbally abused, if not physically; that sort of middle-class stiffnecks really hate to have their perfect world upset, and he exposed them—if reluctantly—as liars in front of all their neighbors." Markham rose and paced around the living room a bit, clearly bothered about something.

"Headmaster, is there _anything_ you can tell me about Potter and his family, and why he was placed here, that would stave off serious trouble? And is there any other place he can be put, and do you have the power to do so? When it comes to dealing with children and teens, I much prefer to avert danger before it begins, rather than have to put the pieces back together afterwards; too often, the pieces don't fit well any more. That boy was just short of breaking when he went up to get you, and any more abusive language is going to set him off. If he blows, someone is going to get hurt, or worse. He's really almost too old for Child Protective Services to deal with, and if there is some political complication involved, I'd really not bring it to their attention, as _should_ have happened years ago. Sometimes they do worse by the children in the name of trying to do right, and I think Potter is a special case that won't fit."

Dumbledore sighed sadly. "First of all, I can confirm what he said about Sirius Black. I, too, witnessed the man's death. He was indeed Harry's Godfather, and had truly loved him. However, the incident that caused him to be wrongfully imprisoned happened immediately after the deaths of the elder Potters. I had hoped that when Harry was placed here, that the Dursleys would treat him at least humanely. There was no affection between Petunia and her sister, Harry's mother, but I had hoped for the best. I see now that my Deputy Head was right: while he was safe here—and this does indeed have to do with his parents, and how and why they died—he was never treated well. Still, it was the least bad of several poor alternatives, then. Now, he is still deeply grieving his Godfather's untimely death, and a number of other issues that the Dursleys do not, and cannot, know about; they would give him no support if they did, and his condition can now be considered desperate." He looked briefly toward the stairs. "One of his professors is with him right now; he is a good and kind man, and was a close friend of the boy's parents and Godfather. He is working with Harry right now as we speak to defuse Harry's reactions to this crisis and to stabilize him."

"And when the Dursleys return?"

"We _will_ _not_ abandon him. He has friends and surrogate family elsewhere. Given the situation, I think I can persuade the Dursleys to sign a waiver of guardianship in favor of one of our professors, or one of his other adult friends. One way or another, we _will_ keep him safe."

"And what about this terrorist thing? How much of that is true? And is this the same Death Eater gang we've had the reports of—the cultists with the masks?"

"All of it, and much more; and yes. They are far more dangerous than I care to describe, and I am bound by the same secrecy that Harry is; suffice it to say that things could get much worse. But you here should not be affected, once Harry is out of here." Dumbledore looked directly and intently at the man. "I believe you to be sincerely concerned for Harry; if so, leave him, and the Dursleys, to us. Do what you can for young Dudley; while he is badly spoiled, I do not think he is completely beyond saving. That may help your credit with his parents. It's too late to avert the scandal they so feared more than anything; and if they cannot take it out on Harry—and I agree with you that they will, do we not intervene—they may do something else rash."

Markham nodded. "All right. For what it's worth, I believe you're sincere, too, and the boy obviously trusts you." A thought struck him. "Is there any way I can recommend Master Dursley for placement in your school? Scotland seems far enough away to keep him away from his current environment and make a clean break."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I fear not. Our school requires a certain level of achievement at the gifted and talented level; Master Dursley could not possibly be even placed there, let alone handle the academic load. And our sports program does not include boxing. But having him removed from his current school--which seems to foster bullying rather than academics--and placing him elsewhere does have merit, although I do not believe that he yet rates that St. Brutus' facility." He stood. "I thank you, sir, for being fair and seeking facts and the truth instead of quick and convenient answers. I see far too much of the other."

Markham too rose. "Fair enough. Then I'll leave now, so that I won't have to officially notice anything I don't need to know about. I need to get the paperwork started on the other case, anyway, and deal with _those_ parents." The two men shook hands, and Markham headed for the door. But as he was about to exit, he turned for a moment. "Headmaster, I don't know what the...greater situation is, and it's probably better that I don't. But that boy deserves better than this. I'll rest better knowing that you and your people will take good care of him."

"Be certain we will," Dumbledore assured him. "I have already pledged to do so."

"Good," Markham nodded. As he left, Dumbledore quietly whispered a soft, powerful and very selective "_Obliviate_". Markham would remember everything except Dumbledore's name and a couple of minor details.


	9. Albus & Severus

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and her publishers, not to me. I'm not making money off this.

Spoilers: All five HP novels.

PRELUDE--MUSINGS & CONVERSATIONS

XIII: Albus and Severus

As soon as the door closed behind the constable, Snape took off his spell. "I think you convinced him, Albus," he commented. "For a Muggle, he seemed straightforward, honest and intelligent."

"I think I did, too," Dumbledore replied, taking off his own Glamour. "He is more concerned by events here in his own jurisdiction than about dead men and gangs elsewhere." His expression turned to concern. "What happened up there?"

"Lupin is comforting Potter, and trying to get him to let go a bit; I took his signal to leave them in privacy. Potter is too proud to break down in front of me, and he would have done just that in another couple of minutes; better that he do so in private. I decided to come in here and be on hand if you needed me."

"So, what is your assessment of the situation, so far?" Dumbledore asked him.

Snape looked around. "Albus, this is the most...sterile...place I could imagine for someone like Potter to live in. No wonder he takes to the Weasleys so much; they are totally opposite to this." He strode toward the fireplace, examining the pictures and trinkets. "Even one of the other constables noted the lack of pictures of Potter, where the Dursley boy's progress is enshrined. I think the Dursleys are going to be in for some severe reputation loss with their neighbors, and all of it will be totally deserved. Now that I have seen and heard Petunia Dursley, I agree with Lupin: she could not be less like Lily if she tried; her husband is worse, and his sister is another bully." A thought struck him; he turned toward the staircase, and opened the cupboard underneath. He looked inside, and froze. "Albus, I saw this cupboard in his memories during the Occlumency lessons. This was his _bedroom_ as a small child!" He then closed the cupboard, turned, and began slowly pacing the room, in front of the couch where Dumbledore was sitting.

"Albus, right now, even if Lupin _can_ get him to release a little, Potter is in far too volatile a state to be left here; as close range as I was, I could feel him desperately keeping control of his temper and his magic. It was far closer than I would have liked as it was, and there were too many people in the room for me to cast a decent Calming Charm on him discreetly. Those people, when they return, are going to blame everything on him—and then it is likely that all of them, Potter included, are going to end up _dead_, when he blows up the house and half the neighborhood. Or, if he survives, he will be adding to his already horrific load of unwarranted guilt, in regard to people who deserve no regrets at all." Snape gave a short laugh, and continued, more sarcastically. "And wouldn't _that _be a lovely headline for the _Prophet_: 'Boy-Who-Lived Blows Up His Own Muggle Family'. Fudge and the Dark Lord would both be laughing themselves sick, and so would the Malfoys."

He stopped his pacing in front of the older man, and spoke in a more moderate tone. "Albus, I was skeptical of your faith in the boy's power. I thought the most he might be was a peer for Lily, who would have been a great apprentice for Flitwick had things been different. I see that I was wrong in that, as well as all else in which I have been wrong about him. He _does_ have great power—and has been slowly gaining control of it. Now, his controls are almost gone. I have been telling him for a long time that he wears his heart on his sleeve and he is too controlled by his emotions. This is part of why his letter so shocked me: that he was showing that he _could_ force down his feelings under strict control, and free his mind to intelligently deal with all the other matters. But now I see his actions are claiming a price, which he has not the experience to foresee, or else thought he could fight through: he is having to control _too _much, _too_ soon, and he is underestimating the strength of that which he is holding in—not only all the recent pain, but everything that has been festering for years, and _that_ was brought out painfully anew by today's events." He did not notice that his voice had slipped into the classroom lecture tone. "Now, he could have dealt with all that _we_ did today, barely, _if_ not for this other mess; the family had heeded the Order's warning and was pretty much ignoring him, which at least is better than active spite. But he was not ready for this upset on top of all the rest; two of his worst temper triggers are insults to his parents and to Black, and he heard more than he should of those today. He badly needs a respite, so that he can get his control back, and have a place to vent safely; the Dursleys will give him none, and they will compound the problem."

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "I regret that I must agree with you. This is what I had sincerely hoped would not happen: that the hazard to him from staying here would outweigh the near-absolute safety provided by the Blood Charm. We will have to take him, and today; it will have to be to Hogwarts, as the Burrow is both too obvious and not safe enough yet and Headquarters will be too much for him for a few days at least. Arabella's place is too close to the Dursleys, and there are also now all the other neighbors to make comments and harass him, now that the lies are exposed. There is also the Head of House meeting tomorrow, and both you and I must be there. I also want Poppy to look him over; I want to be certain his physical health has not been endangered."

Snape nodded in return. "I agree. I also think that the Order should not yet know about this; apart from the obvious security concerns, Molly will want to smother him, and he truly doesn't need that yet. The fewer who know about this, the safer he will be, and for now that also includes his friends. Shall we take him first, or wait for the Dursleys to return? I think that merely leaving a note for them is not enough." A slow smile appeared on the man—the cold smile that had unnerved several generations of Potions students. "Are you _certain _that you don't want them to see me?" he almost purred.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled a bit at the thought of the Dursleys getting the pointed end of Snape's intimidating glares and sharp tongue. "If they do, I will have to Obliviate them somewhat, for your safety as well as theirs. But it might be an idea; you _do_ have a way about you. In any case, I will have to deal with them now anyway to force the custody issue. They have made it abundantly clear that they do not want Harry; I think it is time to grant them that wish." Dumbledore looked toward the stairs. "I should go up and see how Remus and Harry are doing; you wait down here and let me know when the Dursleys return. I want Harry to be a little calmer before you go up; it took him all he had to deal with you as he has, and he fears to lose your respect now that he has finally gotten some of it."

He looked back up at Snape, and his blue eyes softened; he then stood, and laid both hands on the younger man's shoulders. "Severus, my dear and cherished friend, you have no idea how immensely proud of _you _I am—for being willing to accept that you were wrong about Harry, for dropping the old feuds, for working with us without needless friction, and for all the support you have given Harry and the rest of us today. This has been very hard on you, and the worst has not yet come; yet your actions of these last few days have given me hope that we can weather all this together." He gently squeezed the tense shoulders, trying to convey some comfort to the one Order member who needed it the most and got the least.

Snape reached up his hands and returned the gesture. "You may credit Potter with some of it; his letter crystallized misgivings I did not know I had, and helped me see things more clearly. The one theme I see in both of his letters is a desperate desire not to waste more time, and perpetuating the old quarrels did just that, to our detriment and the Dark Lord's benefit." He met the old man's kind eyes. "Albus, I did some serious thinking before I went to Lupin, and more after we talked Friday and yesterday. It has now come to this."

He dropped his hands, slipped out from under Dumbledore's, turned and paced slowly away, staring at the floor. "I already know what I am—a bond-slave to Tom Riddle. That slavery can _only _truly end in one way: death, either his or mine. For the last seventeen years, I have accepted the probability of the latter if I could help bring about the former. I do not expect to be alive when that happens. Now, matters seem to have come to a pass that there may be a _small_ chance of total victory soon: if we but find the correct battleground, bait it temptingly, lure the Dark Lord in, and help Potter to do what he must—and what he now _wants_ to do so badly—all while we keep the rest of the enemy off him, and avoid mutual total slaughter. The bickering and fighting within the Order is hampering us even more than the drain of the tension with the Ministry; and I am one of the worst offenders." He then stopped and turned to face Dumbledore. "So, these are my choices: either I must take my oath to the Order seriously, and give you—and Potter, now that I know the truth--my _entire_ and unstinting support, with all my resources, although within the limits of the role I must play; or I might as well ask you what my final mission is to be, and carry it out. Either way, I expect to die; but I would prefer to accomplish as much as possible first." He didn't mention the third choice, because returning to his Dark Master and betraying the Order was not acceptable. Turning away from Dumbledore, he began pacing again.

"In order to do that, I must try to break decades of habit; it has so far been somewhat easier than I expected, but I do not expect that to continue. Dealing with the world with bitterness has always been easier than admitting that I was envious of those happier than I." He stopped pacing and turned back to Dumbledore. "Do not expect substantial changes in the school term; that is part _of_ my role, until I am discovered. But in private, in Order meetings and in the secret training I will have to be doing with Potter and his friends, I will _try_ not to be needlessly harsh. I have always had high expectations, and tend to be impatient with those who cannot meet them. I cannot guarantee that I will succeed, but I will try." He bowed his head and closed his eyes, still standing in the middle of the floor. "I refuse to have hope for myself any more. But I will not deny it to others through failure to do my part. If Potter can own up to his responsibilities, then so must I."

Dumbledore also closed his eyes; he felt the prickle of tears. This was the most heartfelt admission he had heard in a long time from this deeply proud and tormented man, who had not allowed himself to be so vulnerable in many years—in fact, not since the night, years before, when he had thrown himself on his Headmaster's mercy. It gave him renewed hope: not only for the achievement of their shared goal, but also for a possible future afterwards. He strode over to where the other man was and hugged him fiercely. "Don't ask for a last mission, my friend. I need you too badly for that, and you still have so much to teach us." The embrace was returned silently, and the two men stood there for a minute sharing comfort. When they broke apart, both felt better able to deal with their respective burdens.


	10. Interlude, Muggle Style

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and her publishers, not to me. I'm not making money off this.

Spoilers: All five HP novels.

PRELUDE--MUSINGS & CONVERSATIONS

(Interlude, Muggle-Style)

(Concurrent with "XIII: Albus and Severus")

Detective-Constable Carleton Markham entered the Little Whinging station house with much on his mind. "Has the Magistrate seen those boys yet?" he asked one of his constables.

P.C. Anderson nodded. "He's just starting on them now. We have three officers taking down all the statements." He looked around, and lowered his voice. "If you ask me, sir, that Dursley woman—the aunt, not the mother—is a right nutcase, she is. Frankly, I don't see _how_ the Potter boy could possibly be involved in this, but she thinks he's some kind of apprentice criminal mastermind."

Markham scowled. "Well, she thinks that because she's been fed a pack of damn lies by her brother. Potter was indeed involved with that Sirius Black, but there seems to have been political complications that indicate that he wasn't a murderer. In any case, the man's a month dead now and not our problem.

I talked with Potter, and with his Headmaster—it seems that he had at least two of his Professors from his boarding school upstairs in a careers conference that whole time, and one was his Headmaster—and frankly, Potter's the most innocent one of this whole wretched mob, including the parents."

"I rather thought so," Anderson replied. "That Dursley boy is as spoiled as they come, but his friends Piers Polkiss and Dennis Hayward seem to be the real problem. The Dursley parents are as bad as he is, but I think they really didn't know—only because they turned a blind eye to all his doings."

Markham nodded. "What strikes me as odd: you heard about all that was said there today—but when I interviewed Potter, I asked him what he honestly thought about his cousin. He rightly tabbed him as a bully, a vandal, and thoroughly spoiled, but he doesn't think the drug charges are warranted. In fact, he stuck up for Master Dursley as one who was victimized by his lifelong friends and now knows it; and suggested that we give him one more chance—but away from his father and his friends." He shook his head. "I can't see why Potter would be so forgiving of someone whom he admitted had bullied and tormented him all his life, but he was."

"Some people are like that," Anderson replied. "But sooner or later those Dursleys are going back home; and then what happens to Potter? I'll bet my next pay packet that they won't be nearly as forgiving, and Potter's going to be in for it. If he gets the short end from them, he's going to explode, and no telling _who_ will be the victim, then. He's little for his age, and won't be a match for Dursley senior in a stand-up."

"I don't think so," Markham said, with a slight smile. "It seems that the Professors were listening in on the whole thing, so as to protect Potter if he needed it. They know the situation, and that Headmaster was horrified. I'll bet _my_ next pay packet that either he won't be there when they get home—or the Professors will convince the Dursleys to sign him away to them. It's obvious that he isn't wanted there."

"I hope so," P.C. Anderson replied. "Think they'd take on the Dursley boy, too?"

"I asked," Markham replied. "Apparently he doesn't meet the entry qualifications for Potter's school; it seems to be one of those advanced academies or such. The Headmaster did sound a bit regretful, though, and suggested that I find the boy another environment."

Another officer interrupted them. "You said you wanted to talk to young Dursley—he's ready."

"Take him to my office," Markham directed. He entered it himself and took his seat. A minute or so later, Dudley Dursley came in and was seated.

"All right, I've spoken with Master Potter, and with the Headmaster of his school, who apparently was upstairs the whole time. Both of them think you're salvageable. Why is that?"

Dudley gulped. "The _Headmaster_ of Harry's school? I've never even met him. I think they were supposed to be by this weekend for some kind of conference."

"They were upstairs, listening in, the whole time. Now, as I said, I talked to Master Potter, and he thinks that you're a bully, a vandal and spoiled rotten. Care to argue that?"

"N-no, Sir," Dudley replied, hanging his head. "It's all true. Harry's...well, odd; but he never did any of those things. And my parents resented the fact that he was dumped on our doorstep with a letter, instead of being sent to an orphanage, so they took it out on him."

"I see. Harry also seems to think that if you get away from the friends who betrayed you—he seems sensitive about that, for some reason—and the parents who spoiled you past usefulness, and have a guardian who can give you decent guidance, that you might make something of yourself. He also backed up your crediting your boxing for keeping you away from marijuana. The thing he was the most angry about was not the insults to his parents, or to this Sirius Black--who by the way is now dead, apparently dying right in front of Potter--he seems to be used to that; but the insult your friend Piers did to his good name, by using it as an alias for the Hayward boy. He doesn't fit into this picture, not at all."

_You don't know the half of it, and I daren't tell,_ thought Dudley desperately. _If I tell, I'll end up in the locked ward—I'll bet he never heard of...of wizards!_ "That much is true, sir. Harry never had anything to do with any of this."

Markham leaned back in his chair, but kept his eyes on Dudley. "So—what do you propose we do with _you_? We have you for at least speeding, harboring underage drinking, and the presence of the joints."

Dudley bowed his head in misery. "I'll own up to the speeding. I couldn't stop Piers from having his pints in the bag; I didn't really _see_ it, but he does it a lot. But I never expected Dennis to have joints on him, and then dump them in the car! I don't think he sells to that Carmichael; I think that's his supplier; but I don't know for sure either way."

Markham considered something. "And what about the vandalism and bullying that seems to be blamed on Potter by your neighbors?"

Dudley did not raise his head. "He didn't do any of that, either."

"And why are you now willing to speak up for him, when all your life you have made his miserable?"

"First, my parents aren't here to contradict me, nor is Aunt Marge; I have no idea why she hates him so much, as they've hardly ever seen each other, unless it's because Dad does. Second, I owe Harry one; last summer, when I was out walking alone, I was attacked by...well, a gang of bigger and meaner bullies, and he happened by and somehow got us both out of it in one piece." Dudley swallowed hard. "When I said I wanted protection, I also may want protection from my Mum and Dad, if they ever hear that I spoke up for Harry. They hate him, but they're stuck with him, and everything I ever did to him they encouraged."

Markham shook his head. "It seems to me, Master Dursley, that there are _two_ abuse victims in that house, not just one; you're the other one. For now, I will not speak of any of this to your parents, or in any public record. If you will testify against the other boys, I will see that you get protection, and I can get you released tonight into your parents' custody, so that you need not be in the lockup with the others. Later, depending on what the Magistrate says, you may be eligible for placement elsewhere."

Dudley looked hopeful. "I won't have to get locked up?"

"No. I don't see the need at this time, so long as you behave yourself. Understand, however, that you _will_ be, if any of our officers catch you at anything. And you _will_ be required to appear before the Magistrate to answer the speeding charge. As this is your first listed offense, and you are sixteen, you _may_ get off with a fine, a license suspension, and possibly community service."

Dudley nodded sadly. "Mum and Dad won't be pleased, not at all; but it's better than having me in the lockup." Another thought struck him. "Sir, when we go home, I'm afraid Harry's in for it. Unless his Professors are still there, Mum and Dad are going to give him the screaming fit of his life, and that's saying a lot. He's been moody and upset about something ever since he got back from school; after all that happened today, I'm afraid he isn't going to take it any more." A previous comment sank in. "It must be about Black, if he died in front of Harry...he's his Godfather, but he's supposed to be a mass-murderer. Harry won't have told Mum and Dad about him at all."

Markham smiled. "On that score, you needn't worry. Black, by the way, apparently was wrongfully convicted. In any case, he's dead and won't be a problem. As I said, I spoke to this Professor—oh, he has some odd name, I can't recall—who is the Headmaster. Harry is going to be removed from there, and never come back; your parents will be the ones to get the lecture, and I don't think that the Headmaster will be at all easy on them."

Dudley shivered. "I hope so. Harry's...well, weird, but he doesn't deserve what Mum and Dad are going to give him."

"It's too bad that you are not eligible for that school of his, or I'd recommend that you be sent there. His Headmaster comes across to me as a very caring and humane man."

"That wouldn't do, even if I _were_ eligible," Dudley shivered. "My parents hate _everything_ that reminds them of Harry's parents, and the school is one of those things. Bad enough that Harry goes there, but at least he's away for ten months of twelve. If I were sent there, I might get disowned or something."

"Then since it isn't possible, we won't discuss it again." Markham stood up. "Come, let's go to the clerk's desk; I need to sign the form to release you to your parents."


	11. Albus, Remus & Severus

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and her publishers, not to me. I'm not making money off this.

Spoilers: All five HP novels.

PRELUDE--MUSINGS & CONVERSATIONS

XIV: Albus, Remus and Severus

As planned, Dumbledore went toward the stairs. "Severus, if you would," he said as he left, "see if you can tidy up this place; it had too many people in it for too long. That may help us with the Dursleys." After a nod from the other man, he ascended the staircase and quietly slipped into Harry's room.

"Remus? Harry?" he asked softly, seeing the widened chair and only one head in sight.

"Here, Albus, but be quiet. The Calming Potion finally took, and he's asleep," Lupin said quietly.

Dumbledore sighed a little in relief. "Good. This will make things easier." He came around to see the slight figure snuggled deep into Remus' robes and still holding him tightly. The front of the robes was soaked.

"So he finally let go?" inquired Albus, discreetly scanning both with his wand. "And you, as well?" he added, seeing the werewolf's reddened eyes.

"Yes, thank Merlin, or he would have exploded—and then I would not have been able to trust myself around those insufferable creatures. It's a good thing that this Moon is waning, or you might have worse things to worry about."

"You are not the only one who would have had something to say, let me assure you," the Headmaster replied grimly. "Even the Muggle officers knew something was seriously wrong here. And Severus—I think he wants to turn his...classroom personality on them—just as a start!"

Lupin shook his head and gave a rueful chuckle. "How James would laugh at the idea of Snape, of all people, standing up for _his_ look-alike son!"

"Indeed. I think now that Harry writing him that letter was the best thing that's happened to him in years; it was a real eye-opener. Also, do remember that he's been a professor and a House Head for quite some time; he's seen this kind of thing before, and he's fiercely protective of his young Serpents. Talking to you has helped, too. You will find him a little...not so abrasive, if you will?" Dumbledore smiled at the Werewolf, then his smile faded a little. "Lily would not have laughed, though; she believed, as I always have, that there was much more to Severus than he showed."

"Uh-huh, and Harry's unwittingly done a very Lily thing there." Lupin made a help-me gesture with his head. "Help him off me, will you? I want to lay him down for a while, before we both cramp into knots."

The two men disentangled the boy, and laid him down on the still-Transfigured couch. They had just covered him, when they heard footsteps on the stairs, and Snape came in, looking a little paler and grimmer. He noticed Harry asleep on the couch, then took in Lupin's soaked robe front, and inwardly sighed in relief. No explosion there, for a while at least.

"I heard a car pull up in the drive; I think the family has returned. How shall we handle this?" he asked.

"We shall all three be downstairs in the living room when they arrive," Dumbledore decided. "I do not wish to put this off any longer than we must. I rather think we shall frame our responses when we see how they approach us. After that, we pack up Harry and all his property, including Hedwig, and have Fawkes take us all to Hogwarts. We will have to awaken him to tell us if there is anything else he wants from here."


	12. Hogwarts vs Dursleys & Departures

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and her publishers, not to me. I'm not making money off this.

Spoilers: All five HP novels.

PRELUDE--MUSINGS & CONVERSATIONS

XV: Hogwarts vs. Dursleys

Suiting actions to words, the three went downstairs and sat on the chairs; two weren't enough, so Dumbledore conjured up three more to match. It wasn't long before the Dursleys came in—all four of them. Marge Dursley skidded to a halt; the other three spread out around her and also halted.

"Who are YOU freaks?!" she demanded.

Snape wasted no time; his wand was out so fast it was as if he had had it ready. Lupin wasn't so sure he hadn't. He snapped out several low-voiced spells. "_Silencio. Stupefy. Mobilicorpus_. _Obliviate_." Marge was efficiently silenced, Stunned and lifted to the couch. "She does not know of the Wizarding World, and must not know. She will wake up after we leave, and not remember that we were here." He lowered his hand, but did not put away the wand. "Now, I suggest that you three all sit down; this will make things easier for all concerned." They stared, and did so; there was something about _this_ man that was truly scary, unlike some of the others they had met. Only when they had seated themselves did the Wizard sheathe his wand in its sleeve holster.

Vernon Dursley stared at Snape. "I don't remember ever seeing you before. You're another one of those fr—uh, Professors at that school, aren't you?"

"I am a Professor at Hogwarts, yes. I am Severus Snape, Potions Master." He stood, and was now in full "Snape-mode"—intimidation factor turned up on full. "You have already met Professor Remus Lupin, Defense Against the Dark Arts—"he gestured at Lupin—"it was he who taught Mr. Potter the charm that saved himself and your son from the Dementors last year." Dudley's eyes grew wide, but he didn't speak. "And I do not know if you have ever actually met Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts." He gestured toward Dumbledore, who nodded.

"Now, I believe you were told that we are here for advice counseling for Mr. Potter. That is essentially correct; he has asked us for extra study materials for some of the advanced courses he will be taking. However, we were highly disturbed at the...interruption, and even more dismayed at the information we gathered therefrom." The Dursleys gasped.

"You were listening in on us, weren't you? Not satisfied with setting Potter on us, you had to listen to Dudley's embarrassment!" Petunia snarled.

"Not only listening, but watching," Lupin put in. "The Headmaster and I were upstairs, with the magical equivalent of full-sound video; Professor Snape was downstairs in the room with you, invisible."

"_What_? You were in _here_?" demanded Vernon. "Where?"

Snape replied more calmly. "I was standing in that corner the entire time that the crowd was here, and was quietly sitting down over there when the police officer talked alone to first Mr. Potter, then to Professor Dumbledore. This was for Mr. Potter's safety; you already know that his life has been threatened, and we are especially careful in crowds of people we do not know." His voice hardened, but still held the silky smooth tone of a well-honed knife in a velvet sheath.

"D.C. Markham talked to _you_?" Petunia asked Dumbledore. "Whatever for?"

"First, he wished to verify Mr. Potter's identity again," Dumbledore replied calmly. "Second, we wished to assure each other of the veracity, or lack thereof, of some of the statements made tonight."

"Such as?"

"Mr. Potter's statement about going to a private boarding school in Scotland; I was verifying that the school exists, but not its name, true nature or exact location. The true relationship to Sirius Black; who, by the way, is unfortunately now deceased, and was never guilty of the crimes for which he was imprisoned." He gave Petunia a long, hard look. "Markham was also kind enough to apprise me of the actual nature of that St. Brutus' school. While I agree it made a useful cover story, I find it strange that you could not simply tell the truth, as Mr. Potter did."

"How _could _we explain it? He should have gone to the local high school as we planned, then all of this would not have been necessary!"

"Ah--but he didn't, and it was. Now, as I have been reminded several times this week, we are now faced with this: what has been done is _done,_ and past; we need to deal with things as they are, not as we would have them. Let me remind you that _our_ first priority is the safety and welfare of Mr. Potter, who is after all our student, then your safety." Dumbledore looked up at Snape, who was still standing. "If you would, Professor."

Snape took his place before all three Dursleys. "I should explain that I have been teaching Potions at Hogwarts—and don't flinch at the name, I intend to use quite a few words that you seem to dislike hearing—for over fifteen years; for most of that I have been Head of Slytherin House. Our students are divided into four Houses, starting with First Year; their House becomes a surrogate family for them. As a Head of House, I deal with students from many different backgrounds and home environments. I have seen my fair share of troubled students from badly managed families, and students who simply did not fit into their home environments. Professor Lupin is the junior of us three, as he is only starting his second year, but he is quite capable and relates well to the students. Professor Dumbledore was in Gryffindor House, as were Professor Lupin and James and Lily Potter, and as is Mr. Potter; he has been teaching, mainly Transfiguration with some Defense, for well over fifty years; he has been Headmaster for over twenty years. All of us have similar experiences. The incident today has caused us to do a serious reevaluation of Mr. Potter's placement here." He gave them a glare that seemed to drop the room temperature.

"Based on what we saw and heard today, put together with evidence gathered over the years that had not heretofore been properly assembled, we have concluded the following: that while you had more than adequate resources, Mr. Potter and your son were not raised equitably; that Master Dursley had all the benefits and Mr. Potter had all the work; that he never received the least shred of encouragement; that he was constantly belittled and slandered; that your son's friends were told that he was either a criminal or a lunatic, thereby discouraging him from having any friends; that your son was encouraged to belittle, abuse and intimidate him at every opportunity, and to intimidate anyone who ever attempted to befriend him; that he was underfed, inadequately clothed, and given very few chances for independent recreation; that his primary school accomplishments were denigrated, especially when compared to Master Dursley's; and that you did all that you could to ensure that he knew you hated magic—the most fundamental part of what he is. Wizards and Witches are no more freaks than professional athletes or gifted musicians; we are human beings who can do what the majority cannot."

"Then tell me what was that—creature who delivered his first letter? If that was a human being, I'll eat that ruddy owl!" Vernon retorted. "He was at least eleven feet tall and had all the couth of a—a peasant!"

"Rubeus Hagrid is now the Professor of Care of Magical Creatures," Dumbledore replied mildly. "His father was a Wizard; his mother a Giantess. Several of the humanlike races are capable of intermarriage."

Vernon purpled, but was too stunned to express outrage.

"M—may I ask a question?" stuttered Dudley.  
  
"Be quiet! You should not even be in here!" Vernon thundered.

"On the contrary, Mr. Dursley, he has every right," Lupin spoke up. "He lives here, too; he is Harry's age. If he is old enough, and _polite_ enough, to ask a question, he is old enough to receive the courtesy of an answer." He turned to Dudley. "What do you wish to know?"

"Where's Harry?"

Dumbledore answered him. "He is upstairs, asleep. This afternoon was extremely nerve-wracking for him; it has not even been a month since his beloved Godfather was killed in front of him, and several of his closest friends were badly injured; he has not yet fully recovered from that. Some of the issues we discussed with him today touched on that event. Your Aunt Marjorie is exceedingly tactless and cruel, and it hurt him very much." Dumbledore leveled his gaze at the boy, and his tone moderated a fraction. "You will be interested to know that in the course of the private interview with the constable, Harry spoke up for you, despite your faults. He is one of the most forgiving young men I have ever known."

"He _did?"_ Dudley gasped. "He saved my life last summer, too, from those Dementoid thingys. That's why I didn't blame him like Dennis and Piers did for the marijuana dealing. I owed him one. And I found out it was Piers' idea to give Dennis Harry's name to customers, by the way." He ignored his father's rising temper.

"And _that_ was an incredibly stupid thing to do," Snape rejoined silkily. "That would only lead them back here anyway—unless that was part of their plan, as well as dropping all the evidence in your car."

Dudley gulped. "I know that now; I was used, by mates I've had all my life. And what's weird is, I think Harry knew it, too; he gave me a kind of sympathetic look—like he understood."

"That is why you need not fear any reprisal whatever from Harry," Lupin assured Dudley. "He despises bullies, mainly because of what you and your friends and family did to him all his life; he despises users of people as well, because he has seen it too often. Whatever you may have done to him in the past makes it no less wrong for your friends to betray you." He blinked, looked down, composed himself, and continued. "We Wizards are not immune to the human frailties and faults; we have our good and evil sorts, and also our ordinary sorts that just want to make their way in the world."

"But that boy is _not_ ordinary, even by the standards of your kind," Petunia insisted. "That's why we have practically no family; that's why my sister was murdered! He attracts trouble!"

"Lily and James Potter were murdered because the Dark Lord _wanted_ them dead, not because either they or Harry 'attracted trouble'," Snape retorted. His voice was now silk-with-an-edge again. "I know this for a fact. Professor Lupin and I were in your sister's Hogwarts year, although he was in Gryffindor with her and James, and I was in Slytherin. The Potters were one of the most prominent families in the fight against the Dark Lord before his first fall--which fall was solely due to _your_ sister's sacrifice for Harry. _That_ is why he has been here; your sharing of your sister's shed blood prevents the Dark Lord from coming here to harm any of you. You _are_ right about Harry being not ordinary; in point of fact he is gifted in certain ways, and that is part of what we came here to discuss today." He scowled. "We knew that his home life here was not ideal. But we did not know that it would become so intolerably unsupportive that the drawbacks to his well-being outweighed the safety presented by the Blood Charm!"

"Meaning?" asked Vernon.

"Meaning that we are, tonight, going to remove him from here permanently," Dumbledore replied firmly. "You will still have such protection as we can afford, but it will not be the same level. He is about to undertake some stringent and advanced training, and he needs to be fully healthy first, mentally and physically. He cannot heal here, although he has tried; _you_ have seen to that." His voice tone dropped the room temperature even lower than Snape's had; some of his real power was showing. "You have shown a lack of care for Harry that goes well over the line of mere neglect to actual abuse. You have spoiled and indulged your own son to an equally abusive level; you have done him no favors in shielding him from consequences, and done nothing whatever to prepare him for the real world. And the tactless and cruel treatment Harry received today from Miss Dursley, when he has not healed at all from losing a third much-loved parent figure, nearly pushed him into a loss of control that _could _have very well _flattened_ this house and everyone in it." He paused to let that sink in. "His conscience is so _over_developed, on the other hand, that he would have drowned in his own guilt—had he survived the blast." He glared at the Dursleys, and his voice rose. "I have known families steeped for generations in the Dark Arts, some of Lord Voldemort's supporters, against whom I am now fighting a bitter war, who would have been_ far _worthier guardians for Harry than you, who are his kin! They at least value their precious children, as _you_ obviously do _not_!"

No one spoke for a long minute, while the echoes of his pronouncement faded. It was Snape who broke the silence, and his voice was now a whip-crack.

"You three will remain downstairs, while we go upstairs and prepare for departure. If there is anything whatever of Lily's left here, get it out; Harry will have it. When we leave, we will go as we came; we are not any more desirous of attracting attention than you are. Before then, you will have a charm placed to forget our names and faces; you will only remember that some of Harry's teachers came for him. This is for your safety, as well as Harry's and ours. Professor Dumbledore will prepare a guardianship release for you, and you will both sign it, waiving all kin guardianship rights to Harry, and assigning temporary guardianship to Professor Dumbledore. He will select Harry's further placement; you need not know with whom or where, and it is safer for you that you not know. If Markham or anyone else asks for him, you are to say that he has returned to school early for a summer advanced tuition program." He waited a long moment. "Any questions?"

Dudley spoke again. "Would you—would you tell him goodbye from me? And I'm sorry?" he gulped.

"I will. If Harry wishes to make further contact, he will decide when, where and how. This is also for your safety." Snape gave the boy one of his piercing stares. "Harry seems to think you're salvageable; so does Professor Dumbledore. I am not so certain; I have seen too many boys in my House like you. You are what your parents have made of you; anything else you must do yourself, and it will not be easy, with all that you must unlearn to become a remotely passable human being, which at present you are not. It can be done, however. But you will have to want it badly enough to work at it." He turned on his heel, and left the room in a billow of robes; Dumbledore and Lupin followed him.

XVI: Departures

Harry awoke to a gentle touch on the shoulder. "Wake up, we're getting ready to leave," Lupin said softly.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Almost two hours: long enough for your relatives to come home, and for us to thoroughly castigate them." Lupin smiled. "You should have heard Severus give them the full Professor Snape treatment...it makes up for a _lot_ of our bad history. Lily would have been proud, and James shocked. Now, we need to get you up, so that we can un-Transfigure this couch without dumping you, and then we can pack."

Harry didn't need to be told twice to get up; he knew about Transfigured furniture. The couch was larger than his bed, and he didn't fancy sitting on air. "Pack?" he asked numbly, as that word sank in.

"Pack," affirmed Lupin. "Or did you think that Albus and Severus and I would _leave_ you here, after all that has happened today? From today, you are now a ward—temporarily—of Albus Dumbledore himself; he will determine your future placement."

"Temporarily? Why? Where are we going, anyway?"

"It had to be one of the three of us here for the waiver paperwork. I am barred from full custody, and Severus cannot afford to have his name appear on anything of this nature, so that left Albus. I think he has something better in mind for your future placement. But, in the meantime, let's get your gear together." He smiled. "If nothing else, we are going to someplace where we can get some food; none of us have eaten since lunch!"

Harry got up, pulled out his trunk, and opened it up. Together they gathered up parchments, books, clothes, the Firebolt, and other items; Lupin used the "Pack" charm that Tonks had used the previous year. After the couch was restored to a bed, Harry pulled open the loose floorboard and took out his treasures—his photo album, some letters, and the invisibility cloak. He made certain nothing remained and restored the board.

"That's the lot," he said, and added those items to the trunk. Lupin nodded, and handed back Harry's wand; Harry put it into his pocket.

"Very well—let's go downstairs, finish the paperwork, and get Severus and Albus up here."

Together they descended the stairs. When they arrived in the kitchen, Dumbledore looked up from a parchment. Snape stood quietly beside the door.

"Ah—there you are, Harry. You need to sign here, too."

Harry came over to the kitchen table. Vernon and Dudley were not there; Petunia was seated opposite the Headmaster. He read over the contract, took the quill, and signed. He and Petunia exchanged long looks, but no words were said.

Dumbledore rolled up the parchment, and then stood up. "That will be it, then. We will leave as we came; Remus, Harry, go back up; Severus, escort her upstairs to her room." He held out his hand to Petunia; she took it gingerly and shook it politely. He quietly aimed his wand, said _"Obliviate_", then turned away and followed the others back up to the room. Snape rejoined them shortly.

"Where are Vernon and Dudley?" Harry asked.

"They have already had their Obliviation and are in their respective rooms asleep," Snape replied. "Your cousin has asked me to bid you goodbye, and to tell you he's sorry. I think he may have actually meant it."

Harry picked up Hedwig's cage; Lupin shrank the trunk and put it in his pocket. All four Wizards held onto each other or Fawkes' tail, and vanished in flames.


End file.
